Emblematica : an interdisciplinary journal for emblem studies 2014 [21] 0404647715, 9780404647711, 9780404647506

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Volume

21

EMBLEMATICA Virtuti fortuna comes

An Interdisciplinary Journal

or

for Emblem Studies AMS PRESS

EMBLEMATICA An Interdisciplinary Journal for Emblem Studies Volume 21

Managing Editor David Graham

Review Editor Michael Bath

Editors Mara R. Wade, Managing Editor Designate Valérie Hayaert, Review Editor Designate

Founding Editors Peter M. Daly Daniel Russell

AMS

Press, Inc.

New York

EMBLEMATICA

EMBLEMATICA

ISSN 0885-968X

Manuscript submissions and other editorial correspondence should be addressed electronically, in a standard word-processing document format, to Mara R. Wade . All submissions will be submitted to blind external peer review; the editors’ decision on acceptance will be final. Books for review should be addressed to Michael Bath; however, no obligation is recognized to review or return any books received. Articles and essays should conform to the house style sheet, which is available upon request. General guidance may be obtained from the MLA Handbook for Writers and the Chicago Manual of Style. Authors should be prepared to submit high-quality electronic images, also in a standard format such as JPEG or TIFF, and to provide evidence of permission to reproduce them. Subscriptions and remittances should be sent to the publisher, AMS Press, Inc., Brooklyn Navy Yard, Bldg. 292, Suite 417, 63 Flushing Avenue, Brooklyn, NY 11205, USA,

or .

An Interdisciplinary Journal for Emblem Studies

Emblematica publishes original articles, essays, and specialized bibliographies in all areas of emblem studies. In addition, it regularly contains review articles, reviews, research reports (including work in progress, theses, conference reports, and completed theses), notes and queries, notices of forthcoming conferences and publications, and various types of documentation. Emblematica is published annually, i Editors

Michael Bath, Review Editor 6 Roman Road Balfron Glasgow G63 OPW United Kingdom

Valérie Hayaert Vanautgaerden 5, rue Merle d'Aubigné 1207, Genève Switzerland Valerie. [email protected]

[email protected] Camera-ready copy of this issue of Emblematica was produced at Concordia University, Montreal.

Mara R. Wade

David Graham, Managing Editor Concordia University 1455 de Maisonneuve Blvd. W. Montreal, QC H3G 1M8 Canada [email protected]

Department of Germanic Languages

and Literatures 2090 Foreign Languages Building 707 5. Mathews Avenue

University of Illinois at

Urbana-Champaign Urbana, IL 61801 USA

Volume 21

[email protected]

ISBN-10: 0-404-64771-5 ISBN-13: 978-0-404-64771-1

Set ISBN-13: 978-0-404-64750-6

Copyright

© AMS Press, Inc., 2014 All rights reserved

All AMS books are printed on acid-free paper that meets the guidelines for performance and durability of the Committee on Production Guidelines for Book Longevity of the Council on Library Resources.

Editorial Board

Pedro F. Campa

Jean-Michel Massing

Paulette Choné

Université de Bourgogne (Dijon)

Simon McKeown Marlborough College Sabine Médersheim

College of the Holy Cross

Dietmar Peil

University of Tennessee at Chattanooga

John Cull

Denis L. Drysdall AMS Press, Inc.

Brooklyn Navy Yard, 63 Flushing Ave — Unit #221

Brooklyn, NY 11205-1073, USA www.amspressine.com

Manufactured in the United States of America

University of Waikato, New Zealand

Agnès Guiderdoni Université catholique de Louvain Hiroaki Ito

Saitama University, Japan Lubomir Koneény

Academy of Sciences of the Czech Republic, Prague

Donato Mansueto

F(&00 3679:24 Me

Universita di Bari

University of Cambridge

University of Wisconsin, Madison

Ludwig-Maximilians-Universitat,

Munich

Stephen Rawles

University of Glasgow Library

Mary Silcox

McMaster University

Arnoud S. Q. Visser

Universiteit Leiden Alan Young

Acadia University

—

EMBLEMATICA An Interdisciplinary Journal for Emblem Studies Volume 21

Preface to Volume 21 In Memoriam Erratum

John T. Cull The Emblematic Marriage of Guzman de Alfarache and

the Picara Justina

Pedro Germano Leal

Reassessing Horapollon:

Hieroglyphica

A Contemporary View on

Chris Stamatakis Image to Text: A Possible Visual Source for Sir Thomas Wyatt's Verse Epistles Yona Pinson War and Antiwar Discourse in Alciatos Book

of Emblems

07

Bradley J. Nelson 1581: Mathematics, Emblematics, and Melancholia

Grégory Ems Manuscript Circulation in the Society of Jesus: Student Emblems from the Brussels Jesuit College

Andrea Torre Emblematic Reading through Visual Commentary in an Early Sixteenth-Century Copy of Petrarch

161

207

VOLUME 21

EMBLEMATICA

Denis L. Drysdall, Hieroglyphs, Speaking Pictures and the Law:

TEXTS

The Context of Alciatos Emblems, by Valérie Hayaert

Max Reinhart Georg Philipp Harsdorffer and the Emblematic Pamphlets of 1641-42: Part 2. Aulaea Romana Introduction Text, translation, and commentary

Pierre Martin, ed. Les Emblemes nouveaux dAndreas Friedrich

RESEARCH REPORTS, NOTES, QUERIES, AND NOTICES

Rollenhagen’s Iterating Mottoes in his Epigrams Appendix: A Survey of Rollenhagen’s Three- and

361 369

CRITICISM

H. L. Meakin, The Painted Closet of Lady Anne Bacon Drury, by Michael Bath Herôn Pérez Martinez and Barbara Skinfill Nogal, eds. Creaciôn, funciôn y recepciôn de la emblemätica, by Claudia Mesa

Sara Gonzalez, The Musical Iconography of Power in SeventeenthCentury Spain and Her Territories, by Laurence Wuidar

Debra Barrett-Graves, ed. The Emblematic Queen: Extra-Literary Representations of Early Modern Queenship, by Jennifer Craig-Savla

430

Mara R. Wade, ed. Emblem Digitization: Conducting Digital

Research with Renaissance Texts and Images, by Pedro Germano Leal

Michael Bath, The Four Seasons Tapestries at Hatfield House, by

Anthony Wells-Cole

.

441

Lconologia di Cesare Ripa. Fonti letterarie e figurative dalliantichita al Rinascimento, by Dario Brancato

Rubem Amaral Jr. Does Strength to Wisdom Give Place? An Iconographic

REVIEW AND

428

Mino Gabriele, Cristina Galassi, and Roberto Guerrini, eds.

Four-Word Motto Iteration Patterns

Critical Approach to Emblem 96 in Thomas Palmer’s Two Hundred Poosees

1617, by Alison Adams

Maria Carmen Marin Pina and Victor Infantes, eds. Poesia y Prosa Contra España: Emblemas del Perfecto Español y Rodomuntadas Españolas, by Luis Gomes

Mason Tung

Two Research Notes on Rollenhagen’s Emblems Rollenhagen’s Indebtedness to and Independence from Camerarius

426

446

Addendum: A Rejoinder by Mino Gabriele to Stéphane Rolet’s

381

Review of Il libro degli Emblemi, secondo le edizioni del 1531 del 1534 Volume Index

e

Preface to Volume 21

This volume marks the end of my tenure as Managing Editor of Emblematica, and of Michael Bath’s as Review Editor. It also signals the beginning of a

new era for our journal, as Mara R. Wade and Valérie Hayaert prepare to

take over from us and to begin the work of charting a fresh course. What a privilege it has been for us to serve! When Daniel Russell invited me to join the editorial team more than a decade ago, I was apprehensive; little did I think at that moment that I would one day hold the reins that he and Peter M. Daly then shared with such authority. Emblematica has evolved considerably since that time. In the last half-dozen years, in partnership with AMS Press and with the support and encouragement of its owner, Gabe Hornstein, we have made many significant changes. Before I describe the contents of this volume, and before expressing my gratitude to the many people who have supported me throughout my tenure, I hope I may be forgiven for taking a brief retrospective look over what we have accomplished in recent years.

When I agreed to become Managing Editor, it was with a mixture of some trepidation and considerable enthusiasm. Initial conversations with Gabe and with David Ramm, then our extraordinarily dedicated and competent editor at AMS, followed by extensive discussion in person and electronically with Dan, Peter, and Mike, led to a series of far-reaching revisions to Emblematica. We began by refreshing the editorial board: as our most senior members departed, we added new colleagues who have brought exciting perspectives to our journal. This process will continue under the leadership of Mara and Valérie, and with strong support from Mike and me: we have agreed to remain members of the core editorial team for an additional year, to assist our new editors as they climb their own steep learning curve. Not without debate among ourselves, we also decided to refresh the “look and feel” of Emblematica, moving away from the font we had used

since the journals inception to a new, lighter, more readable one. In conjunction with that move, we changed our editorial platform, discarding

Ventura Publisher—whose arcane and opaque interface had come to seem xi

Emblematica, Volume 21. Copyright © 2014 by AMS Press, Inc. All rights reserved.

xii

EMBLEMATICA

outmoded and clumsy—for Adobe InDesign. Our work is now entirely eletronic, from initial submission of text and figures through peer review and editorial decision to page layout and preliminary proof correction, to final copy editing and definitive final copy for the printer. This enables us to share the editorial work far more easily than in the past and provides an unprecedented degree of uniformity throughout the production process. Peer review: this has been another major transformation of Emblematica, whose articles were previously approved by the editors, though sometimes with the expert assistance of one or more members of the editorial board. For our journal to have the respect it deserves in the international scholarly community, however, we came to believe that implementing a double-blind peer review process was essential: without it, journals simply cannot enjoy

the same credibility with the quality assurance agencies whose role in research assessment is undeniable, if hotly contested. On the whole, although it adds time to the production process, the move to peer review has been highly positive: it enables us to make sometimes painful decisions in the knowledge that they are supported by expert opinion, and it has repeatedly prompted authors to make substantial changes to their work following consideration of the readers’ reports. To support this process, Emblematica now provides much more guidance to prospective authors of articles and book reviews, and to our assessors, in the form of a series of style sheets and guides produced by the editorial team and revised many times over the past few years. While those instructions are not always followed to the letter, I have found that the guides provide an excellent basis for ensuring consistency of standards and that they also help me to remember the basics of our house style and expectations from one volume to another! Mara Wade will no doubt describe her own new vision for Emblematica when she writes the preface to the next volume. For the moment, however, | should say simply that additional changes—positive ones, in my opinion— are under discussion with AMS Press. These focus particularly on the role that online access should play for our journal: I often hear from scholars who would like to have easier access to individual articles, for example, and I am confident that we will see many innovations in this domain over the course of the next few years. This volume contains half a dozen outstanding articles, the second instalment of the critical edition of two emblematic pamphlets in which Georg Philipp Harsdôrffer was deeply involved, some stimulating research notes,

Preface

xiii

and the usual crop of discerning book reviews. John T. Cull’s detailed exami-

nation of the “emblematic marriage” of Don Guzman de Alfarache and the pécara Justina will delight anyone interested in the relationship between the picaresque novel and the emblem corpus. As Cull demonstrates, emblems— usually called “hieroglyphs” in the novel—pervade Lépez de Ubeda’s novel La Picara Justina and are fundamental to its understanding of marriage and

freedom topoi. Hieroglyphs are at the intellectual core of our extraordinary second article as well. In it, Pedro Germano Leal calls into question our longstanding assessment of the work of Horapollon, whose Hieroglyphica was so vital to the early development of the emblem. His analysis truly breaks new ground in this important area of para-emblematic studies. Chris Stamatakis has provided a fine article on the early modern poet

Thomas Wyatt, whose interest in visual culture led him to draw on an em-

blematic printer's device when he came to translate a verse epistle by Luigi Alamanni. Stamatakis persuasively emphasizes the permeability of the boundary between verbal and visual culture in Wyatt's day, thereby contributing to a growing body of scholarship that is uncovering the very considerable debt owed by early modern text to the emblematic corpus. In her article on Alciato’s antiwar discourse, a substantially revised and expanded version of a paper originally presented at the 2011 International Conference of the Society for Emblem Studies, Yona Pinson explores the many dimensions of what she shows to be an extremely important facet of the humanist thought of the founder of the emblem genre. BradleyJ. Nelson’s article may surprise and even disconcert some readers of Emblematica, taking as its point of departure not the emblem or even

early modern culture but a recent film, Melancholi.:, by the deliberately pro-

vocative director Lars von Trier. In undertaking to delineate unexpected

relationships between von Trier’s film and early modern scientific thought, Nelson develops a keenly argued reassessment of the “pseudoscientific enterprise” of Juan de Borjas emblems and of certain recent theories of early modernity. Grégory Ems has contributed a brilliant analysis of the role played by student emblems from the College of Brussels in the circulation of manuscripts and intellectual discourse among early modern Jesuits. As Ems conclusively demonstrates, the student emblems, intended as ephemera, enjoyed surprising longevity and influence: as they gained wide circulation in the Jesuit community, they were recycled into printed works and thus became a lasting part of the early modern emblem corpus. Finally, we

EMBLEMATICA

Preface

publish Andrea Torres stimulating discussion of a fascinating manuscript copy of Petrarch’s Canzoniere from the collection of Chatsworth House

our editorial team, he shines not only in his capacity as Review Editor, but by the sheer judiciousness of his views on every issue on which he is invited to comment. To those three colleagues—for their friendship, their scholarship, and their trust-—I owe a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid. The members of our editorial board are frequently called on to act as assessors of submissions to Emblematica. This is hardly surprising, as they have been invited to join the board by virtue of their standing in the inter-

xiv

Library, whose emblematic marginalia include small images directly tied

with golden ink to specific lines in the text. Max Reinhart’s monumental critical edition of two fascinating Latin emblematic pamphlets, of which the first installment was published in vol-

ume 20 of Emblematica, concludes in this volume with the text, translation,

and commentary for the second pamphlet, Aulaea Romana. Composed in response to Peristromata

Turcica, this is if anything even more engrossing

than the first pamphlet, and Reinhart’s authoritative translation and commentary make these works truly accessible for the first time. This volume

is rounded Tung and field. The particular,

out by three characteristically erudite research notes by Mason Rubem Amaral, Jr. and by reviews of recent publications in our notes deal respectively with the emblems of Rollenhagen—in his debt to Camerarius and his use of iterating patterns in com-

posing his emblems—and with the place of numismatics in interpreting an emblem by Thomas Palmer.

In addition to the usual quota of reviews, we publish a rejoinder by

Mino Gabriele to Stéphane Rolet’s review of his recent work on Alciato,

which appeared in volume 19 of this journal. This is the first time that Emblematica has been approached with such a request, and it occasioned some debate among the editors. The outcome of that conversation was the following policy: if requested, Emblematica may publish rejoinders to reviews, articles, and research notes in the interest of fostering intellectual

debate. When the editors agree that a rejoinder is appropriate, a copy of it

will be forwarded to the author of the piece that prompted it, who will be

given an opportunity to reply. If forthcoming, this reply will appear imme-

diately following the rejoinder, and the issue will then be considered closed.

The happiest task an editor has is to extend thanks, and I would be huge-

ly remiss if I failed to discharge that duty here. Daniel S. Russell and Peter M. Daly, our two founding editors, have been leaders in emblem studies

since before I thought to enter the field, and their exemplary scholarship

has been a continuous inspiration. Additionally, they have been extraor-

dinarily generous

in their mentorship,

encouraging

and

supporting

me

at every turn. It is literally true that without their leadership, this journal would not exist. It is impossible to imagine a more thoughtful and collegial

editorial colleague than Michael Bath. A stalwart and diligent member of

XV

national community of emblem scholars. They play a vital role in ensuring

that our journal continues to develop and improve, and I am grateful to

each and every one of them for their service and for their support. As new members of the senior editorial team, Mara R. Wade and Valérie Hayaert

have already proven their effectiveness throughout the editorial process,

offering solid assessments of submissions and sound advice on matters of

process and form. Emblematica has been fortunate to recruit them, and I

wish them every success as they begin the work of taking our journal in new directions over the course of the next several volumes. Finally, as always, I must conclude by thanking the team at AMS Press. David Ramm, who taught me so much about the craft of editing, has moved on to a new position with the City of New York; | know his no less able successor, Albert Rolls, will provide the same level of expert support to our new editorial team. Our journal would be nothing without Gabe Hornstein, whose vision, commitment, and determination have been so

fundamental to it and to so many other publications in the field of early modern studies, and I am grateful to him for the unswerving confidence

and trust he has placed in me from the certainly not least, I must here record Brantlinger Black, our superlative copy seldom acknowledged, but no scholarly

time of my appointment. Last, but my immense gratitude to Donna editor. The work of copy editors is publication worth its salt can pros-

per without it. Despite the multiple readings and rereadings each article is

given, despite the care and attention lavished on ensuring accuracy and consistency, despite the style sheets and guidelines and the editorial dedication

and effort, Donna still manages to identify and eradicate literally hundreds of errors in every volume. She has saved my blushes more times than I can count. For any errors that remain, I of course accept full responsibility. David Graham Managing Editor

In Memoriam

Nuala Koetter (14 August 1965-6 December 2013) Nuala Bennett Koetter, our colleague and dear friend, passed away at the

premature age of 48 in Munich, Germany, on Friday, December 6, 2013.

Nuala was known to many members of the Society for Emblem Studies from the triennial conferences in La Coruña and Urbana, Illinois, and as a member of the research group, OpenEmblem scholars, who advanced digital emblematica in the early 2000s. Nuala earned a BA in Linguistics from Trinity College, Dublin, and had worked in their famous library and in the private sector before choosing a

library career. She came to the University of Illinois in the mid-nineties to

pursue an MLS at the Graduate School for Library and Information Science, and from 1997 to 1999 she held an appointment in the digital library research laboratory at the University of Illinois. From 1999 to 2003, she was

Visiting Assistant Professor and Project Coordinator for the IMLS-funded

Digital Cultural Heritage Community project, one of the first digitization projects that involved libraries, archives, museums, and delivered Illinois history content so that K-12 teachers could integrate it into the classroom. Nuala was a driving force behind the development of metadata standards and digitization best practices in the early days of mass digitization, and she contributed numerous publications to the professional literature. In 2004, Nuala was appointed Associate Professor with tenure and Head of the University of Illinois Library's Digital Services and Development, where she worked until December 2006. Nuala was actively engaged with the German emblem research project in its earliest phases. She was part of the research team funded by the Alexander von Humboldt-Stiftung that worked with Mara Wade, Beth Sandore, and Tom Kilton at Illinois and with Thomas Staecker and Andrea Opitz at Wolfenbüttel. Nuala helped xvii Emblematica, Volume 21. Copyright © 2014 by AMS Press, Inc. All rights reserved.

EMBLEMATICA

xviii

to launch the CONTENTdm database of German emblems that gave the project a presence on the Web. This early project was an important milestone that later led to the development of Emblematica Online. Nuala, her husband Ralf, and their son Finn moved to Munich, Germany, in late 2006, where Ralf, a faculry member in Electrical and Computer Engineering, had accepted a position at the Technical University. Ralf passed away in 2009, and Nuala and Finn remained in Munich. We fondly recall Nuala and Ralf with their then-infant son Finn at the Illinois confer-

The Emblematic Marriage of

Guzmän de Alfarache and the Picara Justina

ence. Finn Koetter survives his parents.

Those of us who worked closely with Nuala remember her keen intellect and joyous wit. She was readily able to envision how digital libraries could function for scholars. In addition, we remember someone who commanded formidable expertise in her field and was always results-oriented. Her leadership enabled groups to come together easily to develop solutions to difficult challenges. We report Nuala’s death here with great sadness, never forgetting her professional contributions, friendship, and compassion.

JOHN T. CULL College of the Holy Cross Francisco Lopez de Ubeda’s picaresque novel La picara Justina (1605) owes a great debt to the emblem tradition. The author refers to emblems constantly in the work, using the common Spanish synonym

jeroglifico [hieroglyph], but the emblems evoked and described rarely

(Text contributed by Mara R. Wade.)

coincide completely with known emblems from the European corpus. They tend instead to be parodic deformations of actual emblems, used to poke fun at a literary vogue that was starting to be utilized to excess in all forms of cultural creation in Spain of the period. Following the advice of Peter M. Daly, this study views emblems not as the source of the novelistic material but rather as a key to understanding how La picara Justina develops and presents its views on the common topoi of

Erratum

Katrin Fròscher has advised the editors that some emblem numbers in her article “The Relation of the Baroque Ceiling Emblems of Ludwigsburg Palace to the Emblem Book of Johann Christoph Weigel” (Emblematica 19: 95-113) were transposed as the result of transcription errors in her original text that have only recently come to light. The following numbers should be corrected as shown below: For:

Read:

‘See:

163A 1638. 163C 163E 163F 163G

163G 163F 163E ‘1636 163B 163A

p.96, p.96, p.108 p.28 fig. 4, fig. 3,

n. 1; fig. 5, p. 100; p. 107 n. 1; p. 108 p.99; p. 109; p. 110 p. 98; p. 99; p. 109

marriage and freedom in the novel, in dialogue with Mateo Aleman’s picaresque novel Guzmdn de Alfarache (1599).

espite numerous critical attempts to solve the perplexing riddle

of the sources and function of emblematics in the Spanish picaresque novel La picara Justina (1605) by Francisco Lépez de Ubeda,! much work still remains to be done. Critical inquiry to date has 1.

It is not my intent to enter into the dispute over the authorship of La picara Justina. However, Rojo Vega makes an interesting case in favor of the Dominican, Fray Bartolomé Navarrete, based on documentary and textual evidence (see especially 214-28). In his introduction to the novel, David Mañero Lozano posits another suggestive possibility: Bartolomé

Jiménez

Patén (30-53).

For the sake of this study, however, I maintain the traditional attribution of authorship to the physician from Toledo.

1 Emblematica, Volume 21. Copyright © 2014 by AMS Press, Inc. All rights reserved.

2

John T. Cull

EMBLEMATICA

focused primarily on trying to identify sources from the European emblem

tradition that might have inspired the many explicit references to “hieroglyphs” that populate the pages of the novel? This approach, in my view,

has not yielded totally satisfactory results, largely because the author tends

Lopez de Ubeda’s rationale for including emblematic

Y el habérseme manchado la saya con que yo me adorno es indicio

de que no sdlo en la substancia desta historia pondran los murmuradores falta y dolo, pero aun en el modo del decir y en el ornato della, conviene a saber: en los cuentos accesorios, fabulas, jiroglificos,

marily in a parodic and deformed manner. Emblematic allusion is omnipresent in La picara Justina, but its author goes to great lengths to make it difficult for the reader to recognize and decipher the majority of its em-

humanidades y erudiciôn retérica pondran mas faltas* que hay en el juego de la pelota. (41)

blems or hieroglyphs. Peter M. Daly has suggested that “[o]n the whole,

atists” (418). Subsequent studies have shown that this statement is perhaps an

oversimplification. Lucas Torres analyzed the allegorical frontispiece of the novel and opined that the source of the spirit of the novel’s hieroglyphs can be found in the sermons and moralizing literature of the period (2000, 786-87). He asserted that the handling of emblematic material in the novel was determined by “un afan de parodia y de deformaciôn sistematica. Muy pocas son las fuentes facilmente identificables” [a penchant for parody and systematic deformation. There are very few easily identifiable sources] (788; all English translations in this study are my own). A second article by the same author attempts a systematic and exhaustive catalog of the novel’s hieroglyphs (Torres 2002). Around the same time, Antonio Rey Hazas dedicated a lengthy study to the analysis of the emblematic bestiary in the novel, with a concrete focus on eagle imagery, in which he also emphasized the author’s parodic intent (2001, 124). José Miguel Oltra Tomas compiled a catalog of the emblems he had found in the novel general introduction in an article published in 1999. Curiously, Bruno M. Damiani does not include any works ofan emblematic nature in his rather lengthy study of the literary sources of La picara Justina.

ties, and rhetorical erudition, they will find more faults than there are in the game of pelota. |

What is more, the protagonist makes the hyperbolic claim of having read

every single emblematic work in existence: “que no hay hoja en los jiroblificos, ni en cuantos autores romancistas hay, que vo no tenga cancelada, rayada y notada” [for there is no page in the books of hieroglyphs, nor in

any of the romance authors out there, that I have not crossed out, under-

lined, and annotated] (46).

Consistent with Spanish practice in this period, the novelist uses the term hieroglyphs systematically for what we now call emblems.’ At the same ty

Joseph R. Jones concludes that “[t]he source of Lopez de Ubeda’s [sic] hieroglyphics is his own wit, and one can say confidently that he does not use material taken directly from authorities like Valeriano or from early emblem-

[And having stained the skirt with which I adorn myselfis an indication that gossips will find fault and deceit not only with the substance of this history, but also in the mode of narrating it and in its ornamentation, that is to say, in its added stories, fables, hieroglyphs, humani-

+

[Ὁ

in La picara Justina.

materials in his

work is explicit. It is for rhetorical ornamentation. as Justina informs her readers:

to create his own fanciful hieroglyphs and to evoke existing emblems pri-

critics have been more successful when they interpret literature against the general background of emblem-books, using them not as sources but as parallels, or keys to the understanding of literature” (80). In view of this advice, I intend to examine in this study how a knowledge of the emblem tradition can help us to understand certain fundamental textual problems of the novel regardless of whether specific emblems might have served as possible sources for Lopez de Ubeda. Although I will comment on a number of different aspects of the novel, my primary focus will be how emblems illuminate our understanding of the theme of marriage and freedom

3

Ana Murillo Murillo informs us that the first English translation of the novel, The Spanish Jilt (1707) by Captain John Stevens, completely omits all references to the hieroglyphs in the selections he chose to render in English (1990, 161-62). Falta. “En el juego de la Pelota es el lance con que regularmente se pierde por mal jugado, y es de diversas maneras: como Falta de servicio porque no dio sobre la cinta o rtibrica, falta de la cuerda porque fue por debaxo de la cuerda o dio en ella, falta de las vigas si topé en ellas, falta por haver dado el bote fuera del juego, porque la dio dos veces, o por otros motivos” [In the game of Pelota, it is the turn that is usually lost for being poorly played, and it happens in several ways: such as service fault because it did not pass over the ribbon or red mark, beam fault if it hits them, fault for haying hit the ball violently out of play, or because it was

hit twice, or for other reasons] (Diccionario de Autoridades, 1732).

5.

In his chapter “La literatura emblematica en Justina; Oltra Tomas asserts that Lopez de Ubeda omits the word “emblem” in his novel because “no toma en serio este género, vertiendo burlas constantemente sobre el mismo... . Ubeda pretende despistarnos a medias, distorsionando y burlandose de una tradicién

=

EMBLEMATICA

4

time, he taunts the reader to try to decipher the undecipherable at every

opportunity. The intentional promiscuity in the orthographic variations on

bethe term hieroglyph/hieroglyphic is a case in point. What is the purpose

hind so many different spellings of a word if not to draw the reader's attention to the term in its numerous parodic deformations? We find these vari-

ants when the word hieroglyph is explicit: Jeroblifico; Jirolifica; Jerogli CO;

Jiroblifico; Jiroglifico; Jiroblera; jirogliphico and jeroglifica. Lopez de Ubeda, like so many other Spaniards in this period, used the word hieroglyph somewhat indiscriminately, as a synonym of emblem or device. Lépez de Ubeda’s text alludes to many other emblems rather more obliquely with a phrase such as pintaron los antiguos [the ancients painted], or other variations on it.$ But rarely does he evoke an extant emblem in a manner that makes its identification easy for the reader, and quite often the emblems either are reshaped to his own purpose or are of his own invention. For example, in order to illustrate how quick-witted women are when a sudden need arises, Justina evokes the common emblematic image of the

precocious almond tree: “Esto quisieron decir los antiguos cuando pintaron sobre la cabeza de la primer [sic] mujer un almendro, cuyas flores son las

6.

literaria que empezaba a incurrir en el estereotipo” [he does not take this genre seriously, making up jokes about it constantly . .. . Ubeda attempts to more or less throw us off the track, distorting and poking fun ar a literary tradition that was beginning to incur in stereotypes] (1985, 224). The evocation of hieroglyphs in terms of ancient Egyptian pictography was rather common in the Spanish Golden Age. Guzmdn de Alfarache (1599), the immediate inspiration for La picara Justina, describes the Egyptian hieroglyph for king in this manner: “Y no hay titulado muy empeñado, que el rey no lo esté mas, ni grande tan grande que los trabajos y pesadumbres del rey no sean mas grandes y graves. El vela cuando todos duermen; por eso los egipcios para pintarlo ponian un cetro con un ojo encima” [And there is no person with a title of nobility so obliged that the king is not more so, nor a grandee so exalted that the travails and worries of the king are not greater and more grave. He keeps vigil

while all others sleep; therefore the Egyptians, in order to paint him, depicted a

scepter with one eye above it] (Aleman, pt. 1, bk. 2, ch. 5; 2: 153). This is just one of a number of instances where he uses pintar to indicate the representation of a hieroglyph. Juan de Horozco y Covarrubias, in his Emblemas morales (1589), uses the verb pintar repeatedly in his explanation of Egyptian hieroglyphs. To cite just one example: “Pintauan el sol segün Eusebio en figura de moço de rostro

redondo, y en vna naue que lleuaua vn Cocodrilo” [According to Eusebius they

painted the Sun in the figure of a boy with a round face, and in the figure of a ship being carried by a Crocodile] (f. 70r).

SU

A

John T. Cull

5

mas tempranas” [This is what the ancients meant when they painted above

the head of the first woman an almond tree, whose flowers are the earliest]

(524). I know of no emblem that depicts a flowering almond tree above the head of a woman. Is the author referring to Alciato’s emblem “Amygdalus,” as others have suggested? If so, then Lopez de Ubeda is undermining the fairer sex, for Alciato’s moral lesson for early-blossoming children is quite negative, as interpreted by Diego Lopez: “[E]s señal de los muchachos que muestran mui temprano el ingenio, lo qual es señal, o que han de ser locos, o vivir poco tiempo” [It is a symbol of boys who display wit very early, which is a sign that they will either go crazy or live for a very short time] (cited in Bernat Vistarini and Cull, 66). If Hernando de Soto’s emblem of the flower-

ing almond tree is one of the antiguos that Lopez de Ubeda had in mind, then this too is problematic, for the moral lesson conveved by Soto stresses how quickly youth and beauty fade away (see Bernat Vistarini and Cull, 65). If it is a slippery slope to try to identify with any certainty the presence of extant emblems in the novel, there is little doubt that an awareness of the emblem tradition can help us to understand a number of aspects of the novel, including the views on marriage conveyed in La picara Justina. A casual reader of the picaresque genre might be surprised to learn that Spanish rogues, envisioned as solitary rebels who reject society, are in most instances bound by that most sacred social contract: matrimony. Twice married in the course of the novel’s narrated actions, Justina is no exception. The “Prélogo Sumario” [Summary Prologue], one of the numerous preliminary documents that preface La picara Justina, announces her im-

pending marriage to the protagonist of another picaresque novel: “senor don Picaro Guzman de Alfarache, a quien ofrezco cabrahigar su picardia

para que dure los años de mi deseo” [Mr. Rogue Guzman de Alfarache, to

whom I offer to help ripen his roguishness so that it may last as long as the years of my desire] (196). In chapter 3 of book 2, the bald and syphilitic

Justina identifies herselfas “la Guzmana de Alfarache” (646). In addition

to other references throughout the novel to the rogue Guzman, who never actually intervenes in the book action, La picara Justina concludes with preparations for Justina’s marriage to Lozano and the revelation that the death of her first husband, Santolaja, opened the door for “el felice estado

que ahora poseo, quedando casada con don Picaro Guzman de Alfarache, mi señor” [the felicitous state that I now possess, married to Mr. Rogue Guzman de Alfarache, my lord] (969).

ar

6

ER

+

CT CA RES RE

EMBLEMATICA

The curious and appositional interplay of freedom and marriage is a fundamental motif in both novels, with roots in the picaresque tradition that can be traced back to La vida de Lazarillo de Tormes (1554).’ The ludic juxtaposition of these seemingly irreconciliable concepts in La picara Justina can, in my view, be better understood in light of the emblem tradition. The tension between the siren song of unfettered freedom from social constraints that calls alluringly to all rogues and the entrapments of marriage, to which many novelesque pécaros inexplicably succumb, is central to both Guzman de Alfarache and La picara Justina. Limitless self-indulgent pleasure with a minimum of effort would surely be a rogue’s definition of the prosperity and good life achieved at a cost not overly burdensome for his purse and conscience: his social reputation. Lazarillo de Tormes, for one, is not particularly concerned about losing his freedom. This is not the case with Guzman de Alfarache and Justina. Guzman explicitly praises the picaresque life as one of glorious freedom in the novel by Mateo Aleman: No trocara esta vida de picaro por la mejor que tuvieron mis pasados. Tomé tiento a la corte, ibaseme sotilizando el ingenio por horas, di nuevos filos al entendimiento y, viendo a otros menores que yo hacer In La vida de Lazarillo de Tormes, the framing device of the “case” that the pro-

tagonist narrates to “Vuestra Merced” details the rogue’s gradual liberation from

the servitude and oppression endured at the hands of his many masters and tu-

tors as he learns che arts of survival, until he finally earns enough capital to assert his independence as an “hombre de bien” [man of good] (171) who is his own master in the royal office of “pregonero de vinos” [wine hawker] (173). However, Lazarillo ultimately opts to reject his hard-earned freedom in order to enjoy

even greater material prosperity. He of course agrees to marry the servant and concubine of the Archpriest and turns a blind eye to public gossip and condemnation of his cuckoldry in order to ascend the social ladder and thereby “venir a 8.

ον

alcanzar buena vida” [come to achieve the good life] (171). Pablos appears to be the exception who escapes the shackles of matrimony in Francisco de Quevedo's Historia de la vida del Buscôn (1626), though not for lack of trying. In book 3, using the pseudonym don Filipe Tristan, he attempts to marry Dofa Ana but is thwarted. His intentions toward la Grajales at the end

of the novel are not entirely clear. Marcos de Obregén stumbles across his wife in a curious fashion. Though he has managed to spend his youth free of the burden of marriage until that point, his literal hunt turns into a quest of a different

nature, as his heart is swept away by a chance encounter with his future bride as

he hunts with a falcon in one hand and a heart to bait the bird in the other hand (Espinel, bk. 3, descanso 6).

John T. Cull con caudal poco mucha hacienda y comer sin pedir ni esperarlo de mano ajena—que es pan de dolor, pan de sangre, aunque te lo dé tu padre—, con deseo desta gloriosa libertad y no me castigasen como a otros por vagabundo, acomodéme a llevar los cargos que podian sufrir

mis hombros. (pt. 1, bk. 2, chap. 2, 2: 27)

[I would not exchange this rogue’s life for the best life enjoyed by my ancestors. I took the pulse of the court, my wit became more subtle by the hour, I sharpened anew the blade edges of my understanding, and

seeing others of lesser worth than I amass great wealth with meager means, and eat without having to beg for it or depend on the charitable hand of others—which is the bread of pain, the bread of blood, even if it is your own father who gives it to you—, with a desire for this glorious freedom, and of avoiding punishment as a vagrant, which others received, I reconciled myselfto suffering whatever burdens my

shoulders might bear. ]

The freedom accorded by living outside the boundaries of social convention also merits Guzman’s encomiastic approval: Libre me vi de todas estas cosas, a ninguna sujeto, excepto a la enfermedad, y para ella ya tenia pensado entrarme en un hospital. Gozaba la florida libertad, loada de sabios, descada de muchos, cantada y discantada de poetas; para cuya estimacion todo el oro y riquezas de la tierra es poco precio. Tüvela y no la supe conservar; que, como acos-

tumbrase a llevar algunos cargos y fuese ficl v conocido, tenia cuidado

de buscarme un traidor de un despensero, jdéle Dios mal galardone!

(pt. 1, bk. 2, chap. 5, 2: 55).

[I found myself free from all of these things, subject to none, except

for illness, and for that I had planned to enter a hospital. I enjoyed full-bloomed freedom, praised by wise men, desired by many, sung and recited by poets; all the gold and riches of earth are a small price to pay for its worth. I enjoyed it but I failed to preserve it; for, since I

was in the habit of transporting certain goods, and I was trustworthy

and well known, I sought out a distributor who turned out to be a traitor, may God grant him a cursed reward!]

Guzman surrendered his precious freedom to the institution of marriage on two different occasions in Guzman de Alfarache. In the curious domestic enonomy prevalent in Spain of the Golden Age, where maidenhood was so

7

John T. Cull

EMBLEMATICA

highly prized, marriage paradoxically accorded women more freedom than they enjoyed as sheltered virgins, as Guzman observes:

éQué podréis creer que senti? ;Oh maldita riqueza, maldito descanso, maldita libertad y maldito sea el dia que tal consenti, ya fuese por amor, por necesidad, por privanza o algun otro interés!” (pr. 2, bk. 3, chap. 6, 5: 88)

Algunas toman estado, no con otra consideraciôn mas de para salir de

sujeciôn y cobrar libertad. Parécele a la señora doncella que sera libre

y podra correr y salir, en saliendo de casa de sus padres y entrando en las de sus maridos; que podran mandar con imperio, tendran qué dar y criadas en quien dar. Haceseles aspera la sujeciôn; paréceles que casadas luego han de ser absolutas y poderosas, que sus padres las acosan, que son sus verdugos y que seran sus maridos mas que cera blandos y amorosos. (pt. 2, bk. 3, chap. 3, 4: 248) [Some enter into the married state with no other consideration except

to escape subjection and gain freedom. It seems to the lady maiden

that she will be free, and that by leaving the house of her parents, she will be able to come and go as she pleases, and that when they enter the houses of their husbands, that they will be able to rule with complete dominion, that they will have funds to dispense and servants to

bully. Subjection becomes harsh to them; it seems to them that once

married, they will be absolute and powerful, that their parents harrass

them, that they are their executioners, and that their husbands will be more amorous and pliable than soft wax.

After passing in review a lengthy catalog of other less than honorable incentives that lead some women

to get married, the misogynistic harangue in

Guzman de Alfarache concludes: Asi no se ama en las tales el matrimonio por matrimonio, porque sélo hacen dél un medio para conseguir su deseo... . No tome ni ponga la doncella o la viuda su blanco en la libertad, en el salir de sujecién de

[How do you believe that I felt? Oh, cursed wealth, cursed idleness, cursed freedom and cursed the day that I consented to such a thing, whether out of love, out of necessity, in order to get ahead or some other self-interest! ]

These inherited views on pleasure, freedom, and marriage inform the

daunting picaresque novel La pécara Justina, a work fraught with obscurity

and difficulties, as observed by Joseph R. Jones and other readers.’ Justina is indeed a living panegyric to liberty and pleasure, and she can be interpreted

on a figurative level as an emblem that depicts the perils of indulgence in hedonistic excess born of freedom. One particular metaphor utilized by

Lopez de Ubeda to characterize his protagonist and symbolize her independence is that of the cat, and the association between the feline and the perils of unfettered freedom is put into sharper focus and enriched by associations drawn from the emblem tradition.’ After successfully utilizing her wit and wiles to steal an ass, Justina self-identifies as a cat, an animal men-

tioned often in the text. She says in “Del asno perdido” [On the lost ass]:

“En fin, yo le dije mio y por mio quedo; nunca fui mejor gata ni jamas mejor

mié” [In the end, I called him mine, and he remained as mine; I was never 9.

padres o tutores. No se deje llevar del vano amor. (pt. 2, bk. 3, chap. 3, 4: 259-60)

[Thus in such women, marriage is not loved for marriage’s sake, for

they only utilize it as a means to attain their desire . ... Let the

maiden or widow not place her aim on liberty, or on escaping the

subjection of her parents or tutors. Let her not be carried away by vain love. ]

Guzman, unlike Lazarillo, comes to regret the freedom he granted to his

second wife to disport herself with other men, in spite of the wealth that accrues to him asa

result:

10.

“La picara Justina is, unquestionably, the most difficult of all the picaresque novels. Besides obscure allusions to contemporary events which make the satire hard to penetrate, the rhetorical virtuosity of Lépez de Ubeda’s style daunts even the stubbornest admirer of Golden Age prose. The work is a lexographical museum of jargon, slang, technical vocabulary, proverbs and dialect—not to mention imitations of the pronunciation of drunkards—and a textbook of the figures of speech (alliteration, rhythmical cadences, assonance, etc.) and of thought (puns, elaborate similes, apologues, and notably, ‘hieroglyphics’)” (415). | Aleman also comments on the perils of excessive freedom as the source of all vice in the second part of Guzman de Alfarache (1604): “Y aunque conozco ser el vicio tan poderoso, por nacer de un deseo de libertad, sin reconocimiento de superior humano ni divino, gqué temo... ?” [And although I know vice to be so powerful, since it is born of a desire for freedom, without acknowledgment of any superior being, whether human or divine, what do I have to fear?] (pt. 2, bk. 1, chap. 1; 3: 76). Oltra Tomas views the emblem of freedom in La picara

Justina as an intentional counterpart to Guzman de Alfarache’s pessimistic concatenation (1985, 227-28).

10

EMBLEMATICA

-

"§

John T. Cull a better cat, nor did I ever

meow better] (679).!! Why would Justina choose a cat as the image to embody both herself and her triumphant exploit? At first glance, this seems

quite odd. However, it can be explained in part by as-

=

sociations

= re

with thievery in the peri-

CCCIith Fig.

1. Maurice

Scève, Délie (1544).

of the animal

od. Coyarrubias FC5.Sce925.544d,

Houghton Library, Harvard University.

explains

in his

Horozco

Tesoro de la

lengua (s. v. “Gata, y gato”)

that “[g]atos llaman a los ladrones rateros” [they call petty thieves cats], a meaning reinforced by the later Diccionario de Autoridades, which gives as one of its definitions for cat: “Se toma assimismo por el Ladrôn ratero, que hurta con astucia y engano”

[Likewise it signifies the petty thief who robs with cleverness and deceit]. However, the emblem tradition provides another key attribute of the cat, in addition to its usual astute wisdom and wiles.'* This cunning companion 11.

is a fierce adherent of independence, another trait found in all rogues or

picaros. In emblematic literature proper, Maurice Scéve’s Délie (1544) offers

an emblematic representation of a cat associated with dangerous freedom.” The pictura depicts a mouse poking its head out of the open door of a mousetrap. To the left lurks a cat waiting for the mouse to emerge. The emblem’s motto conveys the notion that, alchough imprisonment is harsh, the consequences of freedom are potentially more severe: “La prison m'est dure encor plus liberté” [Prison is hard for me, liberty more so]. The verse subscriptio applies the sweet and pleasant servitude of imprisonment to an amorous context, presenting the vexing quandry associated with sweet and pleasant servitude: “Captifje reste, & sortant je suis pris” [Captive, I remain, and in leaving, I am caught].'* Granted, it is not the cat’s freedom

that is perilous in this example but rather that of the mouse (see fig. 1). Cesare Ripa provides a more convincing example of the cat’s love of freedom. Ripas widely influential Jcoio/ogi.z, first published in Rome in 1593, did not include illustrations until the Rome 1603 edition. This exceedingly popular book was circulating in Spain in the first years of the seventeenth century (Ripa, 1: 22-23), and given its immense popularity, it was likely known by the author of La picara Justina. The illustrated edi-

tion includes the allegorical depiction of /ibertas, or freedom (fig. 2). Juan

I have counted over 70 references to the cat in the novel, with these variations:

illustrations, La vida del Ysopet con sus fibulas hystoriadas (1488 and 1489, see Aesop for a more recent edition). After the cat saves itself by climbing a tree while the fox is devoured by the hounds, the moral reads: “Amonesta esta fabula alos sabios. estudiosos. ingenjosos & viçiosos. que non maltrayan nj se rrian delos ignorantes et insipientes” [This fable warns the wise, the studious, the witty and those given to vice, not to mistreat the ignorant and insipid] (£ 731). The cat's wit and ingenious ploy to evade the hunters by climbing up the tree in order to outfox the fox is a clever stratagem to avoid imminent danger. It can certainly be said that Justina employs similar ruses constantly to maneuver around the many

Gata(s); Gato(s); Gatada and Gatuno/Gatuna. The Spanish verb decir can be

translated as “to call” in this period: “Se usa algunas veces por llamar o nombrar”

12.

(Diccionario de Autoridades, 1732). Covarrubias Horozco stresses irs astute wisdom in the etymology he offers in the

Tesoro de la lengua: “E) gato es animal doméstico que limpia la casa de ratones.

Dijose de la palabra catus, que vale astuto, sagaz; de donde se Ilamaron Catones aquellos romanos, dichos asi por la prudencia y sagacidad del primero que tuvo este nombre.” [The cat is a domestic animal that cleans the house of mice. It derives from the word catus, which means astute, sagacious; and from this certain Romans were called Catos, designated as such due to the prudence and sagacity of the first one who had this name] (2006, 962). Cats also have associations with marriage. According to J. E. Cirlot: “The Egyptians associated the cat with the moon, and it was sacred to the goddesses Isis and Bast, the latter being the guardian of marriage. A secondary symbolism is derived from its colour; the black cat is associated with darkness and death” (39). In the context of pseudo-emblematic literature that combines picture and word to convey a moral lesson, we find precisely these attributes in one of Aesop’s illustrated fables of the fox and the cat. It is included in the first Spanish translation of Aesop’s fables, with woodcut

1]

perils that confront her. 13. 14.

This emblem can be found at the French Emblems at Glasgow website: http:// www.emblems.arts.gla.ac.uk/french/index.php. Practically the same emblem, with Cupid in the background, can be found in

Daniel Heinsius, Quaeris quid sit Amor (ca. 1601), with the motto “II mal mi preme, & mi spaventa il peggio” [Evil pursues me, and fear of worse haunts me].

A related emblem appears in Pieter Cornelisz Hooft’s Emblemata amatoria (1611); the lover imprisoned in its cage and threatened by a cat awaiting its exit with a raised paw is a bird instead of a mouse.

EMBLEMATICA aa

i

John T. Cull Barjas Spanish translation

[A woman dressed in white who holds

of the Siena 1613 edition gives the following description of Freedom, or

a scepter

Mujer vestida de blan-

The izes

co que sostiene un cet-

ro con la diestra y con

la siniestra un gorro.” : Junto a ella y sobre el suelo se ha de poner un gato. El cetro simboliza la autoridad de la Libertad y el Imperio que

ἱ Fig. 2. Cesare Ripa, Jconologia (1613). (Private copy. By permission of owner.)

precisely

of an

justamente

verse means are aimed

toward

the

the spirit with

erpo y de peculio, que

grace,

medios A

by the coin of Brutus with a sword and the cap of the freed man. One of Claude Paradin’s devices, “Captive liberté” [Captive liberty], shows the cap perched on the tip of what appears to be a scepter, even though the prose explicatio indicates that it is “a hat upon the point of a speare, (which was a token of libertie and freedome) because then it was a custome to give ro Saints a hat or cap, & to

make them free: by this device stirring up the people of Rome against the civill magistrates, promising them undoubted libertie. But it fell out farre otherwise, for the same yeare all they were put to the sword that were of that conspiracie. Hereby it appeareth, that that licentious libertie to sinne, which some suppose to be libertie, is mere servitude and bondage” (1591, 228-29).

divine

body

with

i

aa

”

Les antiques A ins, Bouroutonons ee Sueues;por-

totent le Chat (felon Methodius) en enfeivne : befle que lon connait affex impaciente de prifon , ἃ caufe dequoy

pouuoit eftre en fine, er reprefentacion de Liberté. | ig. 3.

Claude Paradin, The heroicall devises of M. Claudius

Paadin. .. (London, 1591). University of Michigan Library (Special Collections Library).

moderation .... As for the cat, it is an animal that loves Freedom a lot:

for which reason the Ancient Alans, Burgandians and the Sueves, according to what Methodicus writes, had it depicted on their ensigns, indicating ou with it that just ‘as the aforementioned animal cannot bear

mucho la Libertad: por lo cual los Antiguos Alanos, los Borgoñones y los Suevos, segün escribe Metédico, lo llevaban representado en sus enseñas, dando muestras con ello de que ast como el mentado animal no puede soportar el verse retenido por la fuerza, asi también aquellas

ipa’s sceprer scepter and : re ave’s cap cap appear variation on Alciato’s emblem Ripa’s freed slaves appear to be aa variation c “Respublica liberata” [the Republic set free], which in some editions is depicted

the

good:

virtue, and capital with prudence and

la prudencia y moderacién . ... En cuanto al gato, es animal que ama

eran gentes que nunca aceptarian sobrellevarla serv idumbre, (2: 19-20)

ab-

solute possession of spirit, of body, and of capital, which by di-

el Animo con la divina gracia, el cuerpo con la virtud y el peculio con

15...

scepter symbolthe authority

en una absoluta posesidn de animo, de cupor diversos a FPS

Arbitrij mihi iura met.

of Freedom and the Dominion that it has over itself, consisting

tiene de si misma, con-

sistiendo

DIB NSI

hand and a cap in her left hand. Next to her and on the ground a cat should be placed.

Libertad:

|

€2

in her right

to see itself restrained by force, thus those were peoples who would never accept to bear the burden of servitude. }

Ripas

source,

in turn,

may

have

been

Claude

Paradin’s Devises heroiques,

first published in 1551, but better known in its expanded second edition es

i

;

.

Sag

à

;

of 1557. There is an early English translation of this work as well (Paradin 1591). In that rendering, the relevant pictura (see fig. 3) consists of a some-

what crude woodcut illustration of a menacing cat with one front paw raised off the ground. The motto is given in Latin along with its English translation: “Arbitrii mihi iura mei, The raine of will is in my owne hands.” But it is the prose swbscriptio that reveals Ripa’s possible debt to Paradin:

“The ancient Alanes, Burgundians, and Sueuians vsed (as Methodius recor-

deth) to carrie before them in their martiall ensignes a cat, which cannot by any meanes be restrained of her libertie: by which embleme they insinuated

14

EMBLEMATICA

their owne desire that they had of their will and libertie” (74). There are, then, some widely disseminated emblematic precedents for the cat as a symbol of fiercely independent liberty, a trait sometimes deemed perilous. These emblematic associations of the cat with freedom enrich our understanding of why Justina chose to identify herself as a cat and help to inform our con-

ception of what her role will be in her various marriages.

One aspect of La picara Justina that is constant throughout the work is the sharp contrast between the protagonist’s repeated insistence on

maintaining her freedom and the more authoritative voice in the moralistic aprovechamientos (fruits or lessons] that warns against the excesses that ensue from unchecked freedom. Justina presents freedom as something systematically denied to her sex, especially when a woman is forced to subjugate herself to the will of a man:!6 16.

In this respect, Victoria in the Comedia Eufrosina by Jorge Ferreira de Vascon-

celos is a precursor of Justina in associating herself and her freedom with a cat. The Portuguese original dates from 1555 [there was a Spanish translation by Capitan Don Fernando de Ballesteros y Saavedra in 1631, reprinted in 1735].

In act 2, scene 4, Victoria tells Andrade, in the Spanish translation: “No he ser cautiva de ninguno antes de tiempo, que quien puede ser toda suya, esta loca en sujetarse a otro .... Y la verdad es, en fin, que sea en juego, sea en saña, siempre el gato araña” [I will not be the captive of anyone before it is time, for she who can be entirely her own is crazy to subject herself to anyone. . . And the truth is, finally, chat whether it be in jest or out of anger, the cat always scratches] (125-26). Victoria utters a similar line later: “[É l piensa que soy su esclava, y que me ha de tener sujeta... que él, no me ha de poder quitar el poder que tengo [He thinks that I am his slave, and char he will be able to have me subjected . . . but he will not be able to take away from me the power that I have] (act 3, scene 5; 243-44). Freedom, then, equals power. Just a few pages later she asserts: ἽΝ]

o me quiero cautivar antes de tiempo; en quanto soy moza, quiero lograr la vida

[I do not want to be captivated before it is time; as long as 1 am young, I want to take all I can from life] (246). Duarte, another suitor, accuses Victoria of the

same self-indulgent attitude displayed by Justina: “Tu, Victoria, no miras sino tu gusto, y el mundo esta malo...” [You, Victoria, do not look at anything except your own pleasure, and the world is bad . .. ] (129). These are just a few ofa number of textual parallels that could be mentioned. One interesting and unusual curn of phrase found in the mouths of both women is “ahérquese en buen dia claro” [may he go hang himselfon a good clear day] (Justina, 282; Eufrosina, 130; the Portuguese original is “enforquese em bom dia claro”), Both women also befriend Celestina types: Justina, the “vieja morisca de Rioseco” [old Moor-

ish woman of Rioseco] and Victoria, Filtria. The misogyny of La picara Justina

may also owe a debt to Eufrosina. For other similarities between the two works,

John T. Cull Habéis de suponer, ilustres madamas y daifises,'” que aunque sea cosa tan natural como obligatoria que el hombre sea senor natural de su mujer, pero que el hombre tenga rendida a la mujer, aunque la pese, eso no es natural, sino contra su humana naturaleza, porque es captividad, pena, maldicién y castigo. Y como sea natural el aborrecimiento desta servidumbre forzosa y contraria a la naturaleza, no hay cosa que mas huyamos ni que mas nos pene que el estar atenidas contra nuestra

voluntad a la de nuestros maridos, y generalmente a la obediencia de

cualquier hombre. De aqui viene que el deseo de vernos libres desta penalidad nos pone alas en los pies. Vean aqui la razén por qué somos andariegas. (426)

[You should accept, illustrious madams and ladies of ill repute, that although it may be such a natural and obligatory thing for a man to be the natural lord of his woman, it is not at all natural, but rather

something contrary to human nature, for a man to have his woman

subjected to him against her will because it is captivity, a pain, a curse, and a punishment. And since abhorrence of this forced servitude, contrary to nature, is natural, there is nothing that we flee from more nor pains us more than being dependent against our will on that of

our husbands, and generally speaking, to have to be obedient to any

man, And thus it comes to pass that the desire to see ourselves free from this suffering puts wings on our feet. See here the reason why we women have such wanderlusr. ]!$ see Damiani, 61-62. Justina claims a familiarity with the Comedia Eufrosina on several occasions in the novel (see Mañero Lozano’s edition, 190, n.). Most likely a corrupted plural of the noun daifa, meaning prostitute. The Dicctonario de Autorid.adcs offers this definition: “Significa también la manceba que se sustenta, y a quien se regala por el ruin trato, e ilicita comunicacién” [It also means the concubine who sustains herself, and who is regaled, by means of base dealings and illicit communication]. This is the sense in which it is found in Vincent Espinel’s Marcos de Obregén: “dejar de contarlo era quedar en opinién de miserable con la señora dayfa” [to refrain from relating it would have meant being perceived as a cheapskate in the view of the lady dayfa] (1: 138); “que vino a saber un alcalde de la justicia, grande enemigo mio, si estaba engañado Dios lo

sabe, que yo habia pegado fuego a la casa de su daifa” [a minister of justice, a great

enemy of mine, only God knows if he was deceived, came to learn that I had set fire to the house of his daifa] (2: 37). A similar passage reads: “Por qué la mujer estima el tener por siervo al hombre. Este es gran punto, y su fundamento también es muy natural, y, si no me engaño, es éste: las mujeres nacimos esclavas y sujetas, y como por nuestros pecados todo el dominio y sujeciôn es aborrecible, aunque sea natural y para nuestro bien, ni cosa

16

EMBLEMATICA

John T. Cull

In the pursuit of her freedom from tyranny, Justina proclaims herself a champion of liberty, and often of pleasure as well.!? For example, one of the

introductory poems to book 2 lauds Justina as both a wandering”’ woman

and a mine replete with freedom and pleasure. The “Cancién de a ocho”

(a

reference, it seems, to the eight lines that make it up) reads:

Justina, then, is the symbolic incarnation of freedom and pleasure in

the emblematic banner on which she is depicted by these two abstractions, along with the motto “In Justina there is a mine of pleasure and liberty.” In the ensuing text of the chapter, a kind of emblematic explicatio, the protagonist reiterates this curious verbal self-portrait of being a mine brimming

with the treasures of freedom and enjoyment:

El Gusto y Libertad determinaron pintar una bandera con sus triumphos, motes y corona. Y, aunque varios, en esto concordaron:

[E]n toda mi vida otra hacienda hice ni otro tesoro atesoré, sino una

mina de gusto y libertad. De modo que, aunque entre la libertad yel

gusto hubieran sucedido las discordias que fingen los poetas, podras creer que yo sola bastara a ponerlos en paz, dandoles en mi campo

“Libertad saque a Justina por romera, el Gusto saque a la misma por bailona.”

franco para dibujar en mi sus blasones, tropheos, victorias y ganancias.

Sea el more: “En Justina, de gusto y libertad hay una mina” (419)!

Que cuando el gusto me considera tan bailona y la libertad tan soltera

y tan tronera, se contentan uno y otro con tener por armas y divisa a sola Justina, unica amada suya y propria mina de todos los deleites suyos, confusién mia, escarmiento tuyo. (427)

mas amable que el mandar, viene a ser que no hay cosa de nosotras mas estimada que vernos con cetro sobre las vidas y sobre las almas, aunque sepamos que ha de

durar poco” [Why a woman esteems having a man as her servant. This is a great

(In my whole life I never gained any property or amassed any treasure, except a mine of pleasure and freedom. So that, although the discords that poets feign between freedom and pleasure might have occurred,

point, and its fundament is also very natural, and if I am not deceived, it is this: we women are born slaves and subjected, and since due to our sins all dominion and subjection is detestable, even if it is natural and for our own good, and since there is nothing we love more than giving orders, it comes to pass that there is nothing we esteem more than seeing ourselves rule with a scepter over other lives

you can believe that I alone managed to make peace between them, al-

lowing them free reign in me τὸ draw their blazons, trophies, victories

and souls, even though we know thar it may last only briefly] (951). The reference

and winnings on me.

to the scepter here may again be evocative of the emblems cited above.

19.

The choice of the adjective andariega [roving or wandering] to describe Justina here and elsewhere in the text is not casual, for it connotes loose morality; an-

dariego: “Amigo de andar, callejero, y de espiritu ambulativo. Dicese de la per-

pleasure considers me such a dancer

sion, a lesson to you.]

Once again, Justina characterizes herself as an emblematic blazon (divisa) of freedom and pleasure, By claiming to be a devout adherent of both of these discordant concepts (in her view) that she has managed to harmo-

spirit. It is said of

nize, Justina deties prevalent social norms that consider these traits to be morally perilous.

“Pleasure and Freedom determined to paint a banner with their triumphs, mottos and crown. And although they varied, in this they agreed: ‘Ler Freedom invite Justina as a pilgrim, let Pleasure invite her as a dancer’ Let the motto be: ‘In Justina there is a mine of pleasure and freedom.” The verb sacar has many possible interpretations, but in this context the sense seems to be to invite to dance, as indicated in the entry for sacara bailar in the 1739 edition of the Diccionario de Autoridades: “Phrase que yale convidar cortesanamente a otra persona a que

acompañe el baile, especialmente si es muger la que ha de acompañar” [Phrase that means to invite another person urbanely to accompany one in a dance, especially if the one to provide company is a woman]. Although published too late to have influenced Lôpez de Ubeda, one of the moral proverbs of Cristébal Pérez de Herrera warns: “Ni es pequeno inconveniente, / Que el hombre siga su gusto” [It is no small inconvenience for a man to follow after his pleasure] (no. 448, 47). Another reprehends: “Al que busca

sona que no para en ninguna parte, y que siempre camina por vicio y costumbre” [A friend of roving, a street person, and with an ambulatory

the person who never stops moving, and who walks incessantly, out of vice or

habit] (Diccionario de Autoridades, 1726),

21.

For when

and freedom considers me so loose and hare-brained. they are both content to have as their coat of arms and device Justina alone, their only beloved and an appropriate mine of all their delights, my confu-

Let us not forget the allegorical frontispiece of the novel, which portrays Justina and others aboard La nave de la vida picara [The ship of the picaresque life],

which includes a pennant or ensign on one of its masts that reads: “el gusto me lleba” [I am carried away by pleasure]. For a study of this frontispiece, see the article by Hendrik van Gorp.

20.

17

22.

EMBLEMATICA There are numerous other instances in the novel where Justina either

proclaims herself to be free or is described as such.” I will limit myself here to one further example with interesting associations among the bird evoked in the text, cuckoldry, and the desire for freedom. Toward the very end of La picara Justina we find the following passage, in which Justina is interrogated by the authorities after a disturbance at her house caused by one of her suitors: “Diéronme por libre, aunque no habia para qué, que yo me lo tenia a cargo, pues fui siempre mas libre que el ave que canta siempre su nombre” [They set me free, although there was no need to, since I took it upon myself, for I was always freer than che bird that sings its own name]

(929). As is the case with so many obscure allusions in the novel, the type of

bird in question is not totally clear. Mañero Lozano, in a textual note, cites a source that identifies this bird as the cuco/cuclillo, or cuckoo (929, n. 31), a viable possibility in view of its definition in the Diccionario de Autoridades: “La voz que forma es cu, cu, de donde por la figura Onomatopeya tomé libertad / Huyendo de la virtud” [He who seeks freedom, fleeing from virtue] 23.

(no. 507, 56). See, for example, 203, 215, 416 (Aprovechamiento), 548 and 913. Perhaps Lopez de Ubeda was influenced by Pedro de Luxan’s widely disseminated Coloquios matrimoniales (1552). Very early on in the text Eulalia resists the role of obedient and submissive wife that her friend Dorotea wants to impose upon her: “Verdad es, pero la libertad es gran cosa, que, como sabes, no se vende por ningun

dinero” [It is true, but freedom is a great thing which, as you know, cannot be

sold for any amount of money] (9).

24.

Plinys Natural History (bk. 10, chap. 48)—on pheasants—offers one possibility: “El Faysän antiguamente fue aue muy rara, câçase en Francia y España, y es

frequente en los montes Alpes... Alexandro Benedictor afirma, que en la isla de Cipro los sustentan mansos en casa, canta estando en libertad, y en siendo preso enmudece. Eliano dize, que por onomatopeya, fue llamado attagas, porque con su

misma voz canta y pronuncia su nombre.” [The Pheasant was formerly a very rare

bird, ic is hunted in France and Spain, and is frequent in the Alps... Alessandro Benedictor affirms that on the isle of Cyprus they raised them tame inside the house; it sings when it is free and goes silent when imprisoned. Aelian says that through onomatopoeia, it was called attagas, because with its own voice it sings and pronounces its name] (816). The passage from Aelian does not make an association with freedom: “The bird called Francolin (Aristophanes mentions it in his comedy of the Birds [349, etc.]), proclaims and sings its own name as loudly as it can. And they say that Guinea-fowls, as they are called, do the same and

testify to their kinship with Meleager the son of Oeneus in the clearest tones” (1.4, chap. 43; 261). The attagas is a kind of sandgrouse.

John T. Cull

19

el nombre” [The sound that it makes is cu, cu, so that from the figure of

Onomatopoeia it took its name]. The Tesoro de la lengua, in the entry for cuclillo, calls the bird an evil omen, due to the adulterous female’s alleged propensity to cuckold the male. Covarrubias refers the reader to Alciato’s emblem “Cuculi” [Cuckoos], which also makes the association between

this bird and the unfaithful wife who betrays her marriage bed. The tex-

tual evidence from the novel does not indicate explicitly that Justina has

been unfaithful to any of her husbands, but her love of freedom certainly allows for such an insinuation. It is clear that, in the course of the narrative, Justina’s freedom and her views on marriage are deliberately and systematically tied to a pictorial-symbolic tradition that is often emblematic in its origins, or that can be better understood in the light of the emblem tradition. In spite of this repeated championing of pleasure and freedom, Justina willingly enters into the marriage contract on at least three occasions. The first of these is with old Santolaja. The second, celebrated in the final chap-

ter of the novel, but left for development in a promised continuation, is to a

certain Lozano, hombre de armas [a man of arms] (969); and the third, also part of the planned continuation, to “don Picaro Guzman de Alfarache, mi

senor, en cuya maridable compañia soy en la era de ahora la mas célebre mujer que hay en corte alguna” [Sir Rogue Guzman de Alfarache, my lord, in whose marital company I am at this present time the most celebrated woman

at any court] (969). Justina describes Santolaja on two occasions as οἰ moscén celibato [the celibate cratty fellow] (281, 304), which suggests an unconsum-

mated marriage of convenience. No details are provided of their life together. If Justina adheres so fiercely to her freedom and independence, why does she

marry three times, and why does she characterize her betrothal to Guzman

de Alfarache, to be chronicled in the promised contuation of the novel, as “el felice estado que ahora poseo” [the felicitous state that I now possess] (969)? Some answers start to emerge in the penultimate chapter of the novel, dedicated to the obligations of love. It starts off with an observation on the natural desire for matrimony: Varias semejanzas y jiroblificos dibujaron los antiguos para por ellos significar qué cosa es la mujer, pero casi en todos iban apuntando [Ὁ PA

18

One motivation extant in the emblem tradition but not fully exploited here is the desire to acquire material property and wealth. Kenneth Fowler describes one such emblem from Holtzwarts Emblematum Tyrocinia (Strasbourg, 1581). See especially, 19-20.

‘

a

—

——

Ser

I

SS

ea

P

RE

pes

SE

EEE

John T. Cull

EMBLEMATICA

21

Ivy is a motifof rich and sometimes contradictory associations in the em-

cuan natural cosa le es buscar marido para que la apoye, fortalezca, defienda y haga sombra, ca aun pintadas, no nos quieren dejar estar sin hombres. (942)

blem tradition. The embrace of ivy vines and the elm tree has been tradi-

[Various similarities and hieroglyphs were drawn by the ancients in

though it also has been used to symbolize lust and ingratitude.”

order to signify what exactly a woman is, but in almost all of them they pointed out how natural it is for her to seek out a husband to support her, strengthen, defend, and provide shade for her, for even when painted, they do not want us to be without men. |

Justina continues on to cite some of these alleged hieroglyphs: Unos jamäs mos a yedra,

la dibujaron en la paloma, porque esta ave sin hembra conocida, esta en palomar ni la hembra sin el macho. Si asi nos pareciéraellas en tener la yel en el zangajo, no fuera malo. Otros, por la por cuanto esta planta jamäs puede prevalecer sin tener parte de

adonde asir, en tanta manera, que por asirse fuertemente a lo que topa,

suele derribar los muros, a cuya causa establecieron las leyes que no plantasen yedra junto a los muros, lo cual he visto yo traer a propésito de que las mujeres hagan menos sombra en los muros de la republica

y demoronen menos cal. Bien aludieron a esto los que dijeron ser la mujer una planta que en ojos, frente, cabellos, manos y vestidos tenia raices como de yedra para prender doquiera que acostase. (942-43)

[Some drew her as a dove because this bird, without a known female mate, is never in the dove-cot, nor the female without the male. If we were similar in appearance to them, with gall on the heel-bone, it would not be a bad thing. Others drew her as ivy because this plant can never prevail without having something to which to cling, to such an extent that by tightly grasping on to that which it climbs, it tends to topple walls, for which reason laws were established forbidding ivy to be planted next to walls, which I have seen applied in the

sense that women should cast less of a shadow on the walls of the republic, and destroy less lime. This was well alluded to by those who said that a woman was a plant, whose eyes, forehead, hair, hands, and

clothes had roots like those of ivy, in order to grasp and seize wherever she might lie down. ]

Justina, however, taps into another rich vein of emblematic association by pairing ivy with the wall. Just as ivy needs something to cling to so that it can grow and prosper, she needs a husband and marriage to thrive and

attain her lofty ambitions, regardless of the destruction she leaves in her

wake. Justina comes to realize, proving Aleman’s Guzman correct, that she enjoys even more freedom and material prosperity through marriage.

Scèves Délie offers an early example of this emblem of ivy thriving at the expense of the wall it has embraced. The pictura consists of an ivy plant that

has toppled the stones of the wall to which it clung for support, with the

motto “Pour aymer, souffre ruyne” [In order to love, it suffers ruin]. The subscriptio reinforces the pernicious nature of this parasitic relationship: “Son amytie, peu a peu, me ruyne” [Its love, little by little, ruins me] (71).

In the Spanish emblem tradition, the examples with which I am familiar occur too late to have been a possible influence on Lopez de Ubeda, but they nevertheless help the reader to understand the reference.** Another popular book featuring this emblem was the Symbolorum & emblematum ex re herbaria desumtorum centuria vna collecta by Joachim Camerarius,

first published in 1590. Emblem 54, with the motto “Si vivet, vivam” [If it

lives, I will live], has as its pictura a building or castle in ruins, with toppled

columns, and ivy growing abundantly on its walls.” Although destructive in its consequences, the embrace and support that the wall provides to

the ivy is characterized here as an emblem of mutual friendship: “Hic ty-

pus expressus mutuae amicitiae est” {This type is an expression of mutual friendship] (see Blanco, esp. 329-30).

27.

26

One wonders whether the reference to hands with roots of clinging ivy is an ironic commentary intended to undermine those marriage emblems that depict the joining of right hands as a symbol of marriage. On this topic, see Victor M. Minguez Cornelles.

tionally utilized as an emblem of everlasting friendship and marriage, al-

28.

Elsewhere I list some of these emblems and their respective meanings (1992, 122-23); on the topos of the elm and vine, see Peter Demetz. Francisco Nunez de Cepeda’s “Sternit ut sternat” [It spreads to overthrow] dates from

1682 while Covarrubias Horozco’s “Meretricis amplexus”

[Harlot’s em-

brace], symbolizing the destructive embrace of the prostitute, dates from 1610. On the destructive yoking of ivy and wall as an emblem of marriage in Don Qui-

jote, see Cull 2002, 149. 29.

[have consulted rhe Frankfurt 1654 edition.

22

EMBLEMATICA Joseph R. Jones posits that at times the structure of the sections of La pi-

cara Justina is intended to mimic the tripartite composition of an emblem:

“This technique of beginning with a brief epigraph, a poem which expands

the epigraph, and a prose explanation which develops the ideas of both is

strictly analogous to the method of the Spanish emblematists Horozco and Soto” (423). The novel’s aprovechamientos [fruits or lessons], then, would

correlate to an emblem’s subscriptio or explicatio, where the meaning of the relationship between the motto and the pictura (the verbal word emblem)

is revealed. At least nine of the novel's aprovechamientos lament the harm

caused by excessive freedom and/or the indulgence of pleasure.” 30.

A few representative passages from these nine aprovechamientos that relate directly to the topic at hand include (1) “La libertad y la demasia del gusto en-

torpece el entendimiento, de modo que aun en los tristes sucesos no se vuelve

una persona a Dios, mas antes procura alargar la soga del gusto, con que al cabo ahoga su alma” [Freedom and excess of pleasure dull the understanding so that

even during sad events a person does not turn toward God, but instead attempts

to give even more rope to pleasure, with which in the end he drowns his soul] (470); (2) “Pondera, el lector, que los males crecen a palmos, pues esta mujer, la cual, la primera vez que salié de su casa, tomé achaque de que iba a romeria, ahora, la segunda vez, sale sin otro fin ni ocasién mas que gozar su libertad, ver y ser vista, sin reparar en el qué diran” (Let the reader ponder, that evils multiply by leaps and bounds, for this woman who, the first time that she left home, assumed the pretense that she was going on ἃ pilgrimage, now, the second time, she

is leaving under no other pretext than to enjoy her freedom, to see and be seen,

without paying heed to what people might say] (559); (3) “Traza del Demonio

es que las mujeres libres, a primera vista, encuentren ocasiones con las cuales se

conserven y continuen sus libertades, porque toma él muy a su cargo fomentar la perdicién que una vez persuade” [It is a scheme of the Devil that free women, at first sight, should find occasions with which to preserve and continue their libertine indulgences, because he takes special care to foment the perdition that initially persuades them] (570); (4) “Las mujeres libres, aun los nombres de los santos lugares ignoran: tal es descuido que tienen de las cosas santas” [Free women ignore even the names of the saints: such is the disesteem that they have for holy things} (712); (5) “Una mujer libre a la misma Iglesia santa pierde el respeto

y en ella se descompone, porque quien niega a Dios la posada de su alma y la tiene tan en poco que, de casa de Dios, la hace pocilga de demonios, tampoco atiende cuan digno es de suma reverencia aquel divino templo en que Dios esta real y verdaderamente” [A free woman loses respect even for the holy Church itself, and when in it, transgresses the rules of modesty, for she who denies God lodging in her soul, and has so little consideration for it, makes of her soul a pigsty of

demons, nor does she heed how worthy that divine temple which God really and

truly inhabits is of supreme reverence] (956); (6) “Generalmente, en el discurso de este primer tomo y en el de la mocedad de esta mujer, 0, por mejor decir, desta

John T. Cull

23

The condemnation of pleasurable liberty can in fact be considered the

novel's framing device, since for all practical purposes, the book begins and ends with it. In the “Prologue to the Reader,” we find this declaration of the novel's intent: En este libro hallarä la doncella el conocimiento de su perdicién, los peligros en que se pone una libre mujer que no se rinde al consejo de otros; aprenderan las casadas los inconvinientes de los malos ejemplos

y mala crianza de sus hijas; los estudiantes, los soldados, los oficiales, los mesoneros, los ministros de justicia, y, finalmente, todos los hom-

bres, de cualquier calidad y estado, aprenderan los enredos de que se

han de librar, los peligros que han de huir, los pecados que les pueden

saltear las almas. Aqui hallaräs todos cuantos sucesos pueden venir y acaecer a una mujer libre; y (si no me engaño) veras que no hay estado

de hombre humano, ni enredo, ni maraña para lo cual no halles desengaño en esta letura. (184-85)

[In this book the maiden will find an understanding of her perdition, the dangers in which a free woman places herself if she does not yield to the counsel of others; married women will learn the inconveniences of poor examples and of raising their daughters poorly; students, soldiers, tradesmen, innkeepers, ministers of justice, and finally, all men of any caliber or state, will learn the pitfalls from which they must free

themselves, the dangers from which they must flee, the sins that might

beset their souls. afflict and befall that there is no you will not find

Here you will find all manner of incidents that might a free woman; and (if T am not deceived), you will see human state, or entanglement or intrigue for which disillusionment in this reading. ]

The final words of the work reiterate the depiction of the protagonist as a statue’! of freedom that is deemed explicitly to be dangerous: estatua de libertad que he fabricado, echaräs de ver que la libertad que una vez echa en el alma raices, por instantes crece con la ayuda del tiempo y fuerza de la ociosidad | Generally, over the course of this first volume and that of the youth of this woman, or better put, of this statue of freedom that I have crafted, you will observe that, once freedom takes root in the soul, it rapidly spreads with the help of time and the strength of idleness] (970). See also the aprovechamientos that correspond to pages 372, 538, and 836. There may be an echo here of several Alciato emblems on marriage that mention statues in their epigrams in order to symbolize the danger of granting too much freedom to young ladies. On this topic, see Maria del Mar Agudo Romeo, 106-7.

D

24

TL

d

MET

qe

SEA RR

Ep

rE

NS

EMBLEMATICA

John T. Cull

pre que encontrare algun dicho en que parece que hay un mal ejemplo,

repare que se pone para quemar en estatua aquello mismo, y en tal caso, se recorra al aprovechamiento que he puesto en el fin de cada numero y a las advertencias que hice en el prélogo al lector, que si ansi se hace, sacarse ha utilidad de ver esta estatua de libertad que aqui he pintado, y en ella, los vicios que hoy dia corren por el mundo. Vale. (970-71) [All that is contained in this book is subject to the correction of the Holy Roman Church and the Holy Inquisition. And I inform the reader that, whenever he finds some expression in which it appears that there is a bad example, he should consider that it is included in

order to burn that very thing in effigy, and in such a case, he should re-

fer to the fruit or lesson that I have placed at the end of each number, and to the warnings that I issued in the prologue to the reader, and if

it is thus done, one will derive profit from seeing this statue of liberty

that I have painted here, and in it, the vices that frolic throughout the world nowadays. Enough said. ]

I believe that the choice of the verb pintar is meant to suggest, as is so often the case in the novel, the process of crafting a hieroglyph, or emblem. Justina is depicted emblematically as a statue of freedom, and the reader's contemplation of it will teach a moral lesson. The fact that this freedom is preached to be dangerous, especially in women, is just one more proofof the novel essential misogyny.” What is more, the phrase “quemar en estatua” [to burn as a statue] is clearly an allusion to another, comically subversive meaning of estatua that the author fully intends, in a narrative technique present in the novel that Rey Hazas has termed a “barroca alusién disémica” [baroque disemic allusion] (1983, 103). The entry for estatua in the “Suplemento al Tesoro de la

Lengua Española Castellana” that Covarrubias Horozco left in manuscript form clarifies that

For example: “Ella, entonces, viendo acortados los pasos y libertad (cosa tan contra el gusto de las andadorisimas mujeres), ech6 de ver cuanto mejor le solia ir con

sayas antiguamente que ahora con plumas de color” {She, then, seeing her path and freedom cut off (something so contrary to the pleasure of women who are

extremely prone to roving), observed how much better things went for her in the past while wearing skirts than now with colorful plumes] (548). For more on misogyny in La picara Justina, see Rey Hazas (1983) and Eugenia Sainz Gonzalez.

25

[e]statua se llama también la figura del reo difuncto o ausente que los inquisidores Apostélicos mandan sacar en el acto de la fe para leerle su sentencia, y si le condenan a relajar, la entregan con los demas que an de ser quemados, de manera que si las demas son estatuas de honra ésta es de afrenta y de infamia.

Todo lo que en este libro se contiene, sujeto a la correcciôn de la Santa Iglesia Romana y de la Santa Inquisicion. Y advierto al lector que siem-

[statue is also the term for a dead or absent prisoner that the Apostolic

inquisitors ordered to be publically displayed during an auto-da-fé in

order to read his sentence, and if he is condemned to being turned over to the secular authorities for capital punishment, the statue is handed over along with the other prisoners to be burned so that if others are statues of honor, this one is a statue of affront and infamy. |

The underlying textual suggestion, then, is that Justina’s /ibertine® indul-

gences, which she tries so hard to cover up with hypocritical protestations of virtuous chastity, and sham marriages, have led to her being burned in

effigy by the Holy Inquisition.

If this reading is accurate, then Justina clearly embodies the trait of vaingloriousness throughout the novel. Could the novel’s allegorical frontispiece, then, in its depiction of Justina on a ship whose sails are full with

the winds that impel it toward the port of desengaño [disillusionment], an emblematic ship* with an inscription on a pennant that reads “El gusto ω Go

DRONA

a) tn

SEL ET

The pun is intentional: as a noun, libertine refers to the emancipated slave or freedman of Roman times; as an adjective, according to the OED, it means both “a person who follows his or her own inclinations; one who is not restricted by convention or tradition” and “a person (typically a man) who is not restrained by morality, esp. with regard to sexual relations; a person of dissolute

or promiscuous habits.”

34.

The inspiration for this frontispiece is clearly the illustration that appeared on

the title page of Francisco Delicado'’s Retrato de la Logana andaluza (1528).

However, the notion of port as a place toward which the ship is headed in order to attain and fulfill desire is possibly inspired by both the prologue to Lazarillo de Tormes, which concludes with praise for those who, “con fuerza y mafia remando, salieron a buen puerto” [rowing with strength and cunning, managed to reach a good port] (89), and a declaration by Guzman de Alfarache: “Alguno querra decir que . . . encamino mi barquilla donde tengo el deseo de tomar puerto” [Some will want to say that I steer my boat toward where I desire to make port] (pt. 1, “Del mismo al discreto lector”; 34) and “Determinado estoy de seguir la senda que me pareciere atinar mejor a el puerto de mi deseo y lugar adonde voy caminando” [I am determined to follow the path that seems to me to best lead to the port of my desire and the place toward which I am walking] (pt. 2, bk. 1, chap. 1; 3: 82).

Reece strona ee tet τ

areca srg yy rEZ CE MOe

o σαν ia

potenrer eat

-

26

EMBLEMATICA

προς

a

à

Bo

ii ia

S

ee

g ee

J

ee

John T. Cull

ee

sis

.

”

δ

a/

me lleba” [Pleasure carries me away] as its motto, be viewed as the emblematically) pictorial depiction of : Justina’s vainglory? glor) A passageg in the novel, which again employs the verb pintar in the sense of emblematic depiction, supports this interpretation:

A la vanagloria (que es un deseo de honra y estima) la pintaron con unas velas hinchadas que caminan presurosamente al gusto, con tijeras y aguja para cortar y coser nuevos trajes; a la codicia, con alas;

pues juntandose todo en uno, iqué se puede imaginar sino que, como codiciosa, habia de ser inventiva y enhilar mil trazas y dar mil cortes,

y como deseosa de gusto y faufau, habia de andar solicita, viento en popa y volando, para poner mis deseos en ejecuciôn? (683-84)

[ Vainglory (which is a desire for honor and esteem) was painted with full sails that head precipitously toward pleasure, with scissors and a needle to cut and sew new outfits; greed was painted with wings; thus, combining everything into one, what else can be imagined except as one who is greedy, I had to be inventive and weave a thousand schemes, and cut a thousand outfits, and as one desirous of pleasure

and gravity of speech, I had to be solicitous, and fly full sail ahead, in

order to carry out my desires.]

In the complex frontispiece (fig. 4), Justina is depicted reading a book with

the title Hola, que me lleva la ola (Hello,

1am carried on the wave] and stands

behind “la madre Celestina” [mother Celestina], as though following in her footsteps. She has been carried away and swept toward the port of disillusionment and death due to her inordinate indulgence in freedom and pleasure. When viewed against the general background of the emblems considered

in this study, Justina’s self-identification as a cat and her characterization as

a statue of freedom help the reader to conceive of her as a hieroglyph that

ran) Wa

symbolizes the dangers of unrestrained nience, ironically, provide her more of the at the expense of the ravages she wreaks to have wed her,Ÿ against the traditional

freedom. Her marriages of convefreedom she craves, and she rebels, on the poor souls unlucky enough emblematic depiction of marriage

One of the novel’s aprovechamientos comments on the mutual hypocrisy of those

who sign the marriage contract: “Los que pretenden casarse en estos tiempos mienten en su calidad y casi en todo, siendo el contraro que con mayor verdad se debe tratar” [Those who seek to get married in these times lie about their quality and about almost everything when ic is the one contract that should be dealt with the most truthfully] (917).

Fig. 4. Francisco Lopez de Ubeda, Frontispiece to La picara Justina (Medina del Campo,

1605). (Courtesy of The Hispanic Society of America.)

_

CRE

EMBLEMATICA x

John T. Cull that associates a woman’s role in wedlock as chaste

and

H

LILA BE PET

BE) TR

temperate

of the home.

guardian If Justina’s

36

love of freedom is perhaps linked to some emblematic depictions of the cat, then we can conjecture that Guzman de Alfarache might best be represented by Ripa’s emblem of matri-

mony. The pictura (fig. 5)

yoke and the stocks symbolize that Matrimony is a weight so burdensome to the strength of a man that it prevents him from walking freely toward the

realization of some actions, since getting married is just like selling oneself, obliging oneself under a perpetual law] (2: 47).

Let us return to the point of departure for this study, Justina’s declaration of marriage to Guzman de Alfarache with her mystifying offer to “cabrahigar su picardia para que dure los años de mi deseo” [help ripen his roguishness, so that it may last as long as the years of my desire] (196). Cabrahigar is an agricultural term that refers to a technique utilized to mature the fruit of the fig tree.** In the entry for cabrahigo, Covarrubias explains that the wild male fruit tree does not produce ripe fruit, however: [E]s medio para que las higueras maduren, por cuanto cria algunos mosquitos que, no hallando en su propia madre sustento, se van a las higueras cultivadas y frutiferas, y picando los higos por los ombligos,

shows a young man with a yoke around his neck and his legs enclosed by

stocks. Fig. ig. 5.5. Cesare Cesare Ripa, Ripa, /conologia Iconologia (1613). (1613). (Private (Private copy. copy. ByBy

permission of owner.)

Under

los horadan y gastan el humor aguoso que tienen, y habiendo abierto

his feet is

camino y entrada al aire y al sol, son medio para que vengan a madurar.

a viper; in one hand, he holds a quince. He has literally

SL

Rt ie l

[It is a means to ripen the figs, for it breeds some mosquitos that, not finding sustenance in their own mother, go to the cultivated and fruitful female fig trees, and boring a hole through the center of the

LE Pe ì

figs, they perforate them and consume the watery substance that they

surrendering his precious

freedom: “Tanto el yugo como el cepo simbolizan que el Matrimonio es peso tan gravoso para las fuerzas del hombre, que le impide caminar con libertad en orden a la realizaciòn de algunas acciones, dado que el casarse es como venderse uno mismo,” obligandose bajo una ley perpetua” [Both the Atypical emblem of this sort is from the Emblemata of Hadrianus Junius (1565), with the motto “Uxoriae dotes” [The qualities of a wife]. Venus, bound in fetters and her face hidden by a bridal veil, sits on a throne holding a basket of fruits in

τ %

36.

hold, and having opened up a pathway to the air and sun, they are the means by which the fruits ripen.]*?

edition, where the definition echoes what we see in the pictura vo the Borja device in the second part of his Empresas morales in 1680, with the motto “Et quod

her lap, with Cupid standing at her side (emblem 12). Similar to this is Emblem

50 from the same book, with the motto “Uxoriae virtutes” [Wifely virtues]. Of the many studies devoted to this traditional emblematic representation of marriage, see especially Cornilliat; Falkner; Garcia Arranz; Moner; Schwartz (who also deals with the topos of elm and vine, 255-56); and Senés Rodriguez (who

concentrates on Alciaros emblems on marriage and their sources). For more on

ty

this emblem of Junius and others that deal with women and marriage, see Anton Martinez (especially 826-27, and, for commentary on the emblem “Uxoriae virtutes, 827-28). Daniel Russell has noted that French emblems on marriage almost universally direct their advice and reprehensions toward women (147-48). Inmaculada Rodriguez Moya cites a later emblem by Meisner (1623) that has as its motto “Uxorem duxi, libertatem vendidi” [I got married and sold my free-

dom], which she attributes to an old German saying translated into Latin. The closest German saying along these lines that I have been able to locate is “Wer nach Geld heiratet, verliert seine Freiheit” [Whoever marries for money loses his freedom] (See, e.g., http://www.sprichwoerter.net/content/view/13994/120/), This term, as a verb, is registered in the Diccionario de Autoridades in the 1729

39.

non habet, dat” [It gives what ir does not have]. We read in Autoridades: “Hacer unas sartas de los higos sylvestres del Cabrahigo o Higuera macho, los quales se cuelgan en las ramas de la higuera hembra, para que lleve el fruto sazonado y dulce: cuya diligencia se hace quando no se puede plantar el macho junto a la hembra.” [To make some wreaths of the wild figs of the Cabrahigo or male fig tree, which are hung from the branches of the female fig tree, so that it may produce sweet and ripe fruit: this diligence is taken when it is not possible to plant the male tree next to the female tree.]

The pollinating male fig wasp does indeed mate with the female inside the fruits

hollow interior, and then chews a passage from which the female escapes. The

EMBLEMATICA

John T. Cull

Just as the female fig tree exploits the wild male tree in order to make its fruits ripen, Justina plans to exploit her marriage to Guzman de Alfarache, taking the role of sexual aggressor, in order to bring her desires to fruition, and prolong them. La picara Justina is a novel in constant dialogue with its predecessor, Guzman de Alfarache, a work highly emblematic in its own right (see Mesa and Lépez Poza). Lopez de Ubeda’s decision to yoke Justina to Guzman in the shackles of matrimony, in view of his repentance at having allowed his second wife the freedom to prostitute herself for his material enrichment, constitutes a hilarious tour de force. In the final analysis, Guzman

is the crumbling wall, destroyed as Justina, the climbing vine, prospers at

his expense. The emblematic marriage of the pécara Justina and Guzman de Alfarache is, then, a clever paradox forged by Lopez de Ubeda that constitutes, in essence, a riddle. How can marriage be both a destructive supression of freedom and a fulfilling act of liberation? We may never be able to explain fully the references to hieroglyphs in La picara Justina, but a knowl-

edge of the emblem tradition does shed light on Lopez de Ubeda’s complex and ironic views on freedom and marriage in the novel.

Anton Martinez, Beatriz. “El binomio mujer virtuosa / mujer perversa en los Emblemata (Amberes, 1565) de Adriano Junio.” In Paisajes emblemäticos: La construcciôn de la imagen simbélica en Europa y America, ed. César Chaparro Gémez, José Julio Garcia Arranz,

and Jesüs Ureña Bracero. Mérida, 2008. Pp. 825-47.

Bernat Vistarini, Antonio, and John T. Cull. Enciclopedia de emblemas españoles ilustrados. Madrid, 1999,

Blanco, Emilio. “La imagen del castillo: un tôpico religioso y politico en la emblemätica del siglo XVII.” In Literatura emblemätica hispänica. Actas del I Simposio Internacional (A Coruna, 1994), ed. Sagrario

Lopez Poza. A Coruña, 1996. Pp. 329-41.

Borja, Juan de. Empresas morales. Facs., ed. Carmen Bravo-Villasante. 1680. Madrid, 1981.

Camerarius, Joachim. Symbolorum e& emblematum ex re herbaria desumtorum centuria una collecta. 1590. Frankfurt, 1654. Also avail-

able online through the Internet Archive at https://archive.org/ details/symbolorumemblem00came.

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in Johan Michael Dilherr’s Sermons on Matrimony.’ Emblematica 185-221.

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y su contexto en la cultura simbélica de la Edad Moderna.” In De la Intimidad y el Susurro al Poder, ed. J. L. de la Montana and I. Rodriguez Caceres. Caceres, 2005. Pp. 49-116.

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traditions aux renouvellements et à l'émergence d'images nouvelles, ed. Augustin Redondo. Paris, 1994. Pp. 77-90. Murillo Murillo, Ana. “The Spanish Jilt: The First English Version of La

Picara Justina.” In Actas del I congreso nacional de la Sociedad

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[Spanish translation of previous

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Junius, Hadrianus. Emblemata. Antwerp, 1565.Glasgow University Emblem

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Website:

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NANI

IEEE

om

Reassessing Horapollon: A Contemporary View on Hieroglyphica PEDRO GERMANO

LEAL

Federal University of Rio de Janeiro

The influence of Horapollon’s Hieroglyphica in emblematics has been well studied since the Renaissance. From the eighteenth century on, however, some authors, writing about emblems, have referred to these hieroglyphs as “fantastic,” “wrong,” or “inaccurate.” This prejudicial and ethnocentric perspective, based on insufficient evidence,

affected the translations of Hieroglyphica available in English, which

in turn contributed to perpetuating the overall misunderstanding of the work. This paper draws on the semiotics and historical context of Hieroglyphica, building up some hypotheses about its “veracity” and

“authorship,” and highlights the need for a new English translation, !

hen cise tery fact, Horapollon scholarship and

introducing a reader to Horapollon,’ it is no longer preor prudent to affirm that the Egyptian author is a mysof whom nothing is known for certain. As a matter of is no stranger to contemporary emblem or Hellenistic never was: recently, new translations of Hieroglyphica*

1.

I record here my thanks to Dr. Laurence Grove and Prof. Alison Adams for their inestimable support.

2.

In Greek, Ὡραπόλλων. I have adopted the orthography from Jones, Marindale, and Morris (“Horapollon 2; 569), as a substitute for “Horapollo,”

3.

ἹΕΡΟΓΛΥΦΙΚΑ, “the hieroglyphs.” I decided to preserve the canonical title (a Latinized version of the Greek original) to avoid repeating the word hieroglyph 27 9.

Emblematica, Volume 21. Copyright

© 2014 by AMS Press, Inc. All rights reserved.

LL

even more frequently.

τ π πε

which is less accurate and used only in English.

EMBLEMATICA

38

appeared in Europe; the literature on Greco-Roman and Byzantine Egypt has grown exponentially, and there is a relative awareness of the importance of Hieroglyphica in the modern era, at least as a source of motifs for artwork. It would be difficult, however, to argue that the outcome of this interest has changed Horapollon’s “esoteric persona,’ especially in emblem studies. On the contrary, one can observe in some important works echoes of an outdated canon, where preconceived notions can still be found. This is entirely natural, as no one expects every author writing about emblems or Renaissance art to be a specialist in Horapollon or Egyptian hieroglyphs. The problem, therefore, is the reliability of some specialized critical sources on Hieroglyphica that are ordinarily taken as a reference point. For the sake of illustration and objectivity, I will begin by quoting two well-known points of reference on this subject. Erik Iversen writes:

Nothing can be said with any amount of certainty about the origin of the book, or about its author. ... The author cannot with certainty be identified with any known scholar by the name of Horapollo, the translator is entirely unknown, and his Greek is bad, but if the tradition is true, it would be the only existing case in which a book is known to have been translated from Egyptian into Greek in its entirety. (1993, 47)

Liselotte Dieckmann has this τὸ say: We know nothing of either the author or the translator. Nor is the date of the book certain. The name of the author looks like a pen

name, since Horus and Apollo are surnames of the same God, i.e. the Sun God, the god of the oracles, etc. (27)

We need only quote one example of a “symbol” to show the great con-

Pedro Germano Leal

39

1914, for example, Jean Maspero had already identified Hieroglyphica’s author with Flavius Horapollon and his intellectual milieu. Horapollon also figures in important sources such as Damascius’s Life of Isidore (preserved in Photiuss Bibliotheca, and also known as The Philosophical History) and Zacharias Scholasticuss Life of Severus. It is therefore undeniable that at least something is known, with certainty, about the author. Nevertheless, Hellenists and Egyptologists do not always give Horapollon the “presumption of innocence” (metaphorically speaking, of course). Garth Fowden, for instance, in The Egyptian Hermes—which has become a point of reference in hermetica—displays what I consider a deliberate piece of prejudice in writing that “one easily understands why it was that the fifth-century Alexandrian writer Horapollo’s treatise on hieroglyphs (Hieroglyphica) already belonged, at least in part, to the realm of fantasy” (64). Passages such as Dieckmann’s allegation of “confusion of thought of Horapollon” and Fowden’s assertion that “Hieroglyphica ... belonged, at least in part, to the realm of fantasy” are not new. They reveal a kind of judgment I would call “positivist,” which is based on insufficient or even nonexistent scientific criteria. This “criticism of taste” can be compared with eighteenth- and nineteenth-century judgments such as Thomas Young statement that Hieroglyphica is “a puerile work” (3) or Friedrich Wolf’s reference to it as “bad and silly” (409). Since the Enlightenment, discrediting Hieroglyphica has become the norm. The very same discriminatory attitude condemned the emblem to the fringe of canonical literature. On the whole, I tend to believe that this results from the conjunction of different factors,* among which are the following: a new perspective on the ancients; exacerbated ethnocentrism;° and the rise of an empirical spirit that would challenge the use of images to convey philosophical or intellectual content.”

fusion of thought of Horapollo. (29)

By no means do I dispute the importance of these works of scholarship to the field of “Renaissance hieroglyphs.” In fact, their relevance is precisely one of the reasons why such assumptions are largely accepted. One can certainly identify strong similarities between Iversen and Dieckmann, however: both neglect the existence of a source of information about Horapollon that had long been available among specialists in GrecoRoman and Byzantine Egypt at the time these passages were written. By

4.

This argument is further developed in my thesis, “The Invention of Hieroglyphs in the Modern Era,’ at the Stirling Maxwell Centre, University of Glasgow.

5.

See Bernal. Although Black Athena is a controversial work, the picture that is given of “the fabrication of Ancient Greece” is very relevant and forms the basis for an important discussion.

6.

See, e.g., Jacques Derrida’s notion of logocentrism in De la grammatologie. As an example of such

a cultural clash, I refer to the quarrel between

Robert

Fludd and Johannes Kepler on the use of image in the context of philosophical

_ii

OOR A e NS I R

MO N a

DDR A

ee

ii

ει του

À

πος τεσ

It is understandable that every cultural ruprure may cause collateral ef-

fects, such as to obscure a discussion—as happened with Renaissance hi-

eroglyphs in the eighteenth century, for example. The consequence of the [lluminist overreaction to the “hieroglyphic phenomenon” is that some authors carried the debate to esoteric grounds, where no light would be cast on the understanding of such a phenomenon, and unscientific hypotheses would prevail in the absence of proper formal refutation. Therefore, on the one hand, we find “enlightened” cultural discrimination against Hieroglyphica; on the other, we see an “esoteric” blind adoration. Both attitudes are prejudicial to real scholarly understanding of any work. As a result, and despite the efforts of many authors, a lack of evidence concerning Hieroglyphica has still been largely accepted as evidence of absence. Needless to say, this is a formal argumentative error. As I hope to demonstrate in this article, however, preconceived notion are still being drawn from this presumption. Ic is striking that so many categorical statements have been made about Horapollon’s hieroglyphs, despite the labeling of Hieroglyphica as a work “full of uncertainty.” The objective of this essay is thus to raise some questions about Hieroglyphica and Horapollon, which

so far I have not seen posed else-

where in clear terms, but which probably confront most of those who come into contact with the work. On the basis of these questions, I hope to show that there persists a lack of systematic approach and clear criteria for the study of this work, which in turn strongly affects its translation (especially

translations available in English) and the understanding of its historical im-

portance and influence. I entertain no expectation of giving any definitive answer to such questions; instead, I aim to test some hypotheses and to show that the methodological problem may sometimes transform the “deciphering (and translating) of Hieroglyphica” into a Sisyphean task. Establishing criteria for the systematic study of Hieroglyphica In studying Hieroglyphica, the first thing that must be made absolutely clear is that we do not have access to this work in its original form. There was a

8.

een ee

eo

—

4]

work written by Flavius Horapollon, probably in the second half of the fifth century, possibly written in Egyptian (Coptic) and now lost; there is also a work that claims to be a Greek version” of that treatise, made by a certain

Philippos,'° who clearly declares that he has included in the work some hieroglyphs from different sources and “without their interpretations.”!! A fourteenth- or fifteenth-century manuscript copy of this later Hieroglyphica is all we possess. The first question, therefore, is this: Beyond the claim of Philippos that

this work was written by Horapollon, is there any other evidence that may

connect this “Hieroglyphica” and the original Hieroglyphica or its context? I

tend to believe that the answer to this question is yes. Among other pieces of supporting evidence, a link between Philipposs claim and the original Hieroglyphica may be found in a passage in Damascius, where a digression

on the meaning of hieroglyphs and sacred animals appears in a fragment

just after the author narrates some episodes from the life of Asclepiades,

Horapollon’s father (189-93). The majority of the hieroglyphs described by Damascius can be found in the first book of Hieroglyphica, with the same meaning .'* Therefore, there is a correspondence between the supposed orig-

inal Hieroglyphica (of which Damascius would probably have been aware,

since he quotes some examples) and the Hieroglyphica we possess. Of course,

this does not mean that the latter is necessarily a faithful translation of the former: my working hypothesis is chat the “extant Hieroglyphica” is an epito-

mized version of the original work. Hieroglyphica, as we know it now, is divided into two books, the first of which contains 70 chapters (37% of the whole), and the second 119 (63%).

The work begins ex abrupto, without any kind of introduction or preamble. Each chapter normally describes one or more hieroglyphs and the concepts 9.

Some specialists maintain that it is “bad Greek” (see Sbordone).

10,

No additional information is known about Philippos.

11.

Awe δὲ τῆς δευτέρας πραγματείας περὶ τῶν λοιπῶν τὸν λόγον ὑγιᾶ σοι παραστήσομαι, ἃ δὲ καὶ ἐξ ἄλλων ἀντιγράφων, οὐκ ἔχοντά τινα ἐξήγησιν, ἀναγκαίως ὑπέταξα. [In this second treatise, I will present you with a good account of the remaining ones [hieroglyphic letters]; and some from other copies, which have no interpretation [ἐξήγησιν], I found it necessary to append].

treatises. See Pauli, sec, 21: “The influence of archetypical ideas on the scientific

theories of Kepler, concerning Johannes Kepler and Robert Fludd (1574-1 637). I adopt the expression “hieroglyphic phenomenon” to designate the fusion of interest in the study and creation of hieroglyphs and their influence between the fifteenth and early eighteenth centuries.

4

Pedro Germano Leal

EMBLEMATICA

40

er

12.

Falcon

(Hieroglyphica

1.6), hippopotamus

(1.56),

crocodile

(1.67-70),

cat

(1.10), ape (1.14-16), and oryx (1.49). It is important to observe that all examples correspond to hieroglyphs from book 1.

42

EMBLEMATICA

they indicate. Often the chapters also serve to explain the connection between sign and meaning, through a pagan/philosophical exegesis.

Κόσμον βουλόμενοιγράψαι, ὄφιν ζωγραφοῦσιτὴν ἑαυτοῦ ἐσθίοντα οὐράν,

ἐστιγμένον φολίσι ποικίλαις, διὰ μὲν τῶν φολίδων αἰνιττόμενοι τοὺς ἐν τῷ

κόσμῳ ἀστέρας. βαρύτατον δὲ τὸ ζῷον καθάπερ καὶ ἡ γῆ, λειότατον δὲ

ὥσπερ ὕδωρ: καθ᾽ ἕκαστον δὲ ἐνιαυτὸν τὸ γῆρας ἀφείς, ἀποδύεται, καθ᾽ ὃ καὶ ὁ ἐν τῷ κόσμῳ ἐνιαύσιος χρόνος, ἐναλλαγὴν ποιούμενος, νεάζει.- τῷ δὲ ὡς τροφῇ χρῆσθαι τῷ ἑαυτοῦ σώματι ση- μαίνει τὸ πάντα ὅσα ἐκ τῆς θείας

προνοίας ἐν τῷ κόσμῳ γεννᾶται, ταῦτα πάλιν καὶ τὴν μείωσιν εἰς αὑτὰ λαμβάνειν. (Hieroglyphica, 1.02)

[When they want to write “cosmos;’ they draw a serpent devouring

its own tail and covered with many-colored scales. By the scales they allude to the stars of the cosmos. This animal is very heavy, like the earth; but it is also very smooth, like the water. Every year, it strips off its old age with its skin, as the course of a year in the cosmos changes and becomes young again. [ The fact of ] using its own body as nourishment signifies that all the great things divine providence engenders in the cosmos are taken back again into it by [a process of] diminution. ]

As Philippos himself claims in the very short introduction to the second book that he has added other signs from different sources, without their corresponding explanations or exegeses, one can expect a clear discrepancy both in the form and in the content of the first and second books: this occurs naturally. Moreover, book 2 is undoubtedly heterogeneous in itself, and different structures can be identified in it. Although there is no certainty about the date when this version of Hieroglyphica was made," one thing is clear: this work, like so many others, was subject to the vicissitudes of the manuscript tradition, thus implying that copyists, ignorant of the original meaning (and faced with its complexity), would be apt to corrupt the text. Even though this information is not new, and perhaps obvious, it is important to bear it in mind when reading some of the judgments made elsewhere about the “quality” of Hieroglyphica’s text. 13.

Pedro Germano Leal Returning

foro Buondelmonti in Andros and brought to Florence in 1422.

the

manuscript

and

Distribution of Chapters by Section

according to four main criteria! —lin-

@

guistic structure, theme, sources, and veracity of entries (in relation to ear-

lier stages of the Egyptian writing )—I have been able to identify three main

continuous “sections” (which I have

Book 1, A: 1-70

ES Bs ἡ δῦ @ Book 2,C:31-119 Fig. 1: Distribution of chapters by section within Hieroglyphica.

named A, B, and C), where distinct styles of hieroglyph predominate (fig. 1). The work’s division into these sections does not affect the original se-

quence of chapters or the structure of the books." On the contrary, the fact of having such different styles of hieroglyphs already organized in distinct groups can be evidence of the compiler’s'’ awareness with regard to the distinct sources of each section. Generally speaking, each chapter of Hieroglyphica deals with a hiero-

glyph or concept. Some hieroglyphs appear in several different chapters, however, and sometimes a chapter gives more than one meaning for each hieroglyph. At first sight, as the first book has 70 chapters, one might be led to believe that this book is shorter than the second, which has 119 chapters, 14.

Walle and Vergote (1943), Zarate (1991), Tedeschi and Creyatin (2002), among others. However, the awareness of this fact has not been explored with regard to the question of the authorship of Hieroglyphica or of its historical analysis. In other words, it has not resulted in any practical implication for the study of this work.

15.

Some of the criteria preliminarily used to distinguish the sections are shown in

16.

J. M. G. de Zarate, the editor of the modern

The oldest manuscript copy, dating probably from the fourteenth century, we possess is now MS. Plutei 69: Codex 27, housed in the Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, Florence. More precisely, this is the one acquired in 1419 by Christo-

to

its heterogeneity, I also note that it is very difficult to work with general assumptions regarding Hieroglyphica or its books. The discrepancy from book to book and from chapter to chapter is apparently deliberate, however, and has been noted, though not analyzed systematically, by other scholars.’ Analyzing the chapters individually

43

the appendix (below, 72).

Spanish edition, made the most

inexplicable choice: he rearranged the chapters at his will, grouping them by sub-

ject (or by what he supposes is the subject of each chapter). 17.

It will be apparent that I resist the idea of referring to Philippos as just a passive

“translator” of Hieroglyphica.

44

EMBLEMATICA

but the fact is that the majority of the chapters in book 1 give many more than one meaning for each hieroglyph, for example, To indicate monogenes, or genesis, or father, or cosmos, or man, they draw a scarab. ... (1.10)

To write mother, or sight, or limits, or foreknowledge, or year, or sky, or merciful, or Athena, or Hera, or two drachmas, they draw a vul-

ture:.,... (1.11)

Moreover, very often one of the meanings of a given chapter may not be identified with classical Egyptian hieroglyphs while the rest can be so identified. It would not be correct, on this basis, to conclude that the chapter in question is “wrong.” For this reason, the chapters are not a reliable criterion on which one can base quantitative, or even qualitative, postulates. I therefore propose to use the concept of “entry” —as in a dictionary—as the minimum unit of Hieroglyphica for the purpose of study (see fig. 2). One of the practical applications of Hieroglyphica’s division into sections

and entries is that it makes possible a more precise referencing system for each hieroglyph (entry). Through this system, it is possible to refer directly to a particular meaning and simultaneously place it in the context of authorship or sources; for example, To write mother [a], or sight [b], or limits [c], or foreknowledge [4], or year [e], or sky [f], or merciful [g], or Athena [h], or Hera [1], or two drachmas [j], they draw a vulture...

(1.11)

If one wants to refer directly to the vulture meaning “foreknowledge,” one can simply quote: 1A.11d (book 1, section A, chapter 11, meaning “d”).!® After this very superficial, but necessary, description of Hieroglyphica, I must briefly address two questions concerning it. Here again, my intention is not to offer definitive answers but to contribute to verifying the formal validity of some given canonical affirmatives. The first of these questions is that of who wrote Hieroglyphica. The answer to this enquiry depends essentially on another question: Which part of it? As I have argued, Hieroglyphica has clearly different styles, even allowing for the homogeneity that would naturally come with translation into Greek. The different styles may thus 18.

So far I have been using another referencing system in this paper (which appears to be the most used one: enumerating book and chapter only); for the sake of uniformity, I will adopt this new system in future publications only.

Pedro Germano Leal indicate

that

more

than

one

author

was involved in the composition of

45

Distribution of Entries by Section

the Hieroglyphica, as we know it. This

confirms the usefulness of dividing Hieroglyphica into sections in any discussion of authorship, as we can then associate different sections with different authors. However, these associations must be supported by argument and will have implications. At present, I am working with two main authorship scenarios. In the first

@ Book I, A: 1-70 (130)

of these, Horapollon is the author of

® Book 2,C: 31-119 (93)

sections A and B, and Philippos is the author of section C (as a compiler

Book 2, B: 1-30 (44)

Fig. 2: Distribution of entries by section within Hieroglyphica.

of different sources). In this case, B would be based on an incomplete fragment or quotation (in other works)

of the “original Hieroglyphica.” In the second scenario, Horapollon is the author of section A. B would then be based on fragments or quotations extracted directly from another authentic Egyptian source, or commentators, by Philippos or another compiler. This would help to explain the repetition of some hieroglyphs from section A, and the lack of interpretations in section B. In this scenario, Philippos is taken co be the author of section

C (again as a compiler).

In both these scenarios, sections A and C would have different authors. The three main reasons for this are: the discrepancy between the form and

the content of the hieroglyphs (between A and C), identified according

to some criteria (see appendix, below, 72); the fact that Damascius does not quote any hieroglyph from section C but only those from section A; and Philippos’s statement recognizing his own additions to the text. These hypotheses, however, do not per se exclude other possibilities—such as seeing Horapollon as the author of sections A, B, and C, something I am not actually convinced of—nor hinder their study. I expect to undertake further research to explore and evaluate other scenarios, together with their possible sources and hypotheses, but for the discussion here, these two scenarios will suffice.

46

Pedro Germano Leal

EMBLEMATICA The question of the authorship of Hieroglyphica is also important be-

cause—despite the many pieces of evidence suggesting Philipposs interven-

tion—Horapollon has frequently been blamed for “mistakes” identified in section C, for example by Iversen:

He [Horapollon] describes a substantial number of professed hieroglyphical motifs which were never represented in any form or shape in Egyptian art or writing such as “a lion eating a monkey” (1176), or a “horse’s carcass” (11.44). Together with others which would seem difficult to depict .. . such as “a man eating the hours”? a “blind beetle” (11.41), and “crocodile blood” (11.24). (1993, 48)

He is criticized as if che work, as we know it, were a precise and complete copy of an original Hieroglyphica supposedly written in Coptic, whereas it is clear that this is not the case. As a matter of fact, even section A may be someone’s annotation of Horapollon’s work for the purpose of study (something that could explain why Hieroglyphica does not have any kind of introduction). Moreover, since the author was a distinguished grammarian,

how can he be blamed for having a poor literary style? How can someone i a , a : E ac 20 +. judge che literary qualities of his work after it has been corrupted,” trans-

lated into bad Greek (cf. Sbordone; and Iversen 1993); rendered in an arti-

ficial language (neo-Latin), and finally translated into English?

In this particular example—the only one from section A—it is said that, to indi-

cate “the man who observes the hours’ “they draw a man eating the hours, not that the man eats the hours, for that is impossible, but because food is prepared

for men according to the hours” (Hieroglyphica, 1.42), The author himself states

that is impossible for a man to eat hours, however, and explains that this is in fact

a metaphor. From an Egyptological point of view, he may be correct: the expres-

sion imy.wnwt designated the “observer of the hour,’ a priest responsible for “call

to those who are in the sw’ workshop to prepare food,” according to the regulations of the Temple of Edfu (Wilson, 128). The expression imy.wnwt could be written as could plausibly be rendered by the hieroglyphs for “hour” (wnwt), followed by the determinative of a man with the hand in his mouth (81), used to determine abstract concepts, but also for eating.

This is something that could be indicated by the absence of any introductory remarks and the natural corruption caused by successive manuscript copies.

Identifying Horapollon Horapollon, son of Asclepiades*! and grandson of Horapollon, was a distinguished grammarian-philosopher from Phenebythis, a village in the Panopolite nome in the Thebaid, who flourished in the second half of the fifth century and who taught and lived in Alexandria. Given his descent from a family of intellectuals and philosophers, his own name—the amal-

gam between the Egyptian “Horus” and the Greek “Apollon” —is a perfect metaphor for the Egyptian cultural milieu of his time.

Following the Roman Empires conversion to Christianity, many violent incidents erupted between Christians and pagans in Egypt (see Athanassiadi and Rémondon). It is of particular interest here to highlight one of these episodes. Even before Horapollon was born, Panopolis was

under constant harassment caused by Shenoute of Atripe (ca. 385 to 465), archimandrite of the White Monastery,” who destroyed pagan temples and cults, and systematically preached against paganism.** One aspect of Shenoute’s modus operandi is symptomatic: the tactic of denying the fact that the hieroglyphs were a writing system. In one of his works, he said: And if before today it was laws for murdering men’s souls which were in it, written in blood and not in black ink alone, there is nothing else written with respect to them except the likeness of the snakes and the scorpions, and the dogs and the cats, and the crocodiles and the frogs, the foxes, the other reptiles, the wild beasts and the birds and the domestic animals and the rest; moreover, [there is] also the likeness of the sun and the moon and all the rest, all of their works being ridiculous and false things. And in the place of these things, it is the According to Damascius, he “had been educated mainly in Egyptian literature, [and] he had a more accurate knowledge of his native theology [if compared to his brother, Heraiscus], having investigated the principles and methods and

having enquired into the absolute infinity of its extreme limits. One can clearly see this from the hymns that he composed to the Egyptian gods and from the treatise he set out on the agreement of all theologies. He also wrote a work dealing with Egyptian prehistory, which contains information covering no less than thirty thousand years, indeed slightly more” (187). The extension of Asclepiades’s knowledge is essential to an understanding of Horapollon’s education and sources, and also his cultural militancy. The White Monastery was located at Sohag, on the riverbank opposite Panopolis. His disciple Besa gives an account of his actions and “victories” against pagan-

ism, including the description of temples and objects destroyed.

48

EMBLEMATICA soulsaving writings of life which will henceforth be in it, fulfilling the word of God. (Westerteld, 32)

Together with the efficient strategy of “provoking and destroying” (see Hahn et al.), the attack on hieroglyphs is not a simple collateral effect of iconoclasm but a way to alienate pagans by cutting their bonds with, or even their curiosity toward, their own ancestral tradition (see Frankfurter).

In addition, convincing people that hieroglyphs were but “ridiculous and false things” would discredit Egyptian theological sources and their importance, support Christian iconoclasm and “cultural supremacy,’ and taunt pagan cultists—who would not be able to refute the argument without giving themselves up. In Alexandria, Horapollon became the head of an important school of rhetoric and philosophy that attracted some of the most prominent scholars of his time, both Christian and pagan,™ and was a champion of this intellectual milieu, a condition that naturally resulted in rivalry and enmity. In the fall of 485,7) one of Horapollon’s students, Paralios of Aphrodisias, influenced by one of his brothers,” took advantage of a day when Horapollon would not be at the school to mock and insult pagan beliefs and gods in front of his colleagues and teachers, thus provoking their anger. As a result, he was ferociously beaten by a band of pagans. This incident?” was the perfect bait to catch pagans. The Patriarch of Alexandria, Peter Mongus,”* immediately instigated a counterreaction, incriminating Horapollon before Entrechius, the Prefect of Alexandria, who was a crypto-pagan himself. Horapollon then went into hiding together with other colleagues, to some extent with the connivance of Entrechius. Continuing their retaliation, the Christians united under the command of Peter Mongus to attack and destroy the shrine of Isis at Menouthis,” with 24,

Heraiscus, Isidore, Ammonius Hermias, the Christian sophist John Semeiographos, the Christian rhetorician Sopater, among others (see Watts 2010).

25. 26.

For a discussion on the date, see Jones et al., 569. Athanasius, a friend of Stephen the Sophist, both monks in the Monastery of Enaton (Haas, 187).

27.

À recent summary account of this episode can be found in Watts 2010.

28.

29.

According to Damascius, “a reckless and truly evil man” (1131).

— Menouthis was a city near Alexandria that disappeared underwater in the eighth century.

Pedro Germano Leal

49

the help of Paralios, who knew the place. The dismantled shrine was a house, according to Zacharias Scholasticus, “totally covered by pagan inscriptions,” (ie., hieroglyphs), with hidden idols and altars covered with blood.” After these events, possibly at Easter in 486, Horapollon was publicly execrated

in Christian homilies in Alexandria where he was called Psychapollon [Soul

Destroyer}. Meanwhile, under the orders of Peter Mongus, twenty camels

were loaded with idols and other sacred objects from the shrine of Isis and

brought to Alexandria, where they were first mocked and vandalized, then set on fire, and finally pulverized in public.*! In late 487 or 488, Nicomedes, an official from Constantinople, came to Alexandria to investigate the possible supporters of the conspiracy against the emperor Zeno that had occurred a couple of years earlier.** As Edward Jay Watts argues, “though it cannot be proven, there is good reason to suspect that Peter Mongus was behind this” (2006, 222). Once again, Horapollon was involved. This time he was captured and tortured, together with Heraiscus, to reveal the whereabouts of Harpocras and Isidorus (suspected of conspiracy), but according to Damascius, “racked with tortures in order to betray their accomplices, they gritted their teeth and proved themselves superior to yielding to the tyrant” (17C). Probably because of torture-related wounds, Heraiscus died soon after that, while hiding in Gessius’s house. Between 487 and 491, and again some time later, but before 526 (see

Jones et al., “Horapollon 2; 569), Horapollon is said to have “go[ne] over to the other side and abandon[ed] his ancestral customs,” becoming

a Christian. Despite Damascius’s statement that there was no apparent

reason for this dramatic turn (120B), it is clear that Horapollon suffered

the violent consequences of being a pagan leader, and for that reason, it is not surprising that he may have become a Christian (or crypto-pagan, like Entrechius; see Zacharias Scholasticus, 25-26) to find peace, escape exile, or simply survive. In addition, his wife left him to live with another man. While Horapollon was away, she took the opportunity to steal from their home in Phenebythis, an act that led Horapollon to file a formal appeal against her. This document, discovered by Jean Maspero (163), is important 30. 31.

For a complete account of what was found, see Zacharias Scholasticus (27-35). The exact site where these objects were destroyed may have been rediscovered recently in Alexandria (see E. Rodziewicz for details of this finding).

32.

In 481 or early 482, the poet Pamprepius went to Alexandria and tried to convince a number of pagan intellectuals to take part in the revolt.

IN PNA DONE NE

50

TERA

EMBLEMATICA

not only for being a personal testimony by Horapollon but because it gives evidence of the quality of his literary skills in Greek. In sum, Horapollon’s life was a sea of troubles, but he took part in the most important historical events in Egypt. By no means is he an obscure

character: he was one of the greatest intellectuals of his age. Curiously, he is not usually presented as a philosopher. On the contrary, Damascius declares clearly that “Horapollo was not a philosopher by nature; but he kept hidden deep within himself some of the theological concepts of which he was aware” (120B), and Zacharias Scholasticus stresses Horapollon’s quality as a grammarian, in contrast with his pagan interests: [Le] grammairien (γραμματικός) Horapollon ... connaissait d'une fa-

con remarquable son art et son enseignement était digne d’éloge; mais il était de religion païenne, et plein d’admiration pour les démons et la magie. (15) [[The] grammarian

(γραμματικός) Horapollon . . . was remarkably

well versed in his art and his teaching was worthy of praise; but he was of the pagan religion, and full of admiration for demons and magic. ]

Why do neither the Neoplatonists nor the Christians recognize Horapollon as a philosopher? It is certain that his familiar circle had an intense relationship with Egyptian native cults.** Would Egyptian religion or sources not be considered philosophy by his time? Why would Horapollon represent more risk to the status quo than a Neoplatonist such as Ammonios?** How subversive could a mere grammarian be?

Pedro Germano Leal

the question itself could be understood as a pointless digression in this es-

say. Many of us have had, at some point, contact with Egyptian hieroglyphs and therefore we all are—or so we believe—able to identify a hieroglyph

when we see one, Etymologically, it is often claimed that the Greek word

hieroglyph is a translation of the expression maw ntr (“the divine words” in Egyptian), however, this is rather imprecise—and again biased by our logocentric attitude toward writing. As a matter of fact and for the sake of illustration, in the Rosetta stone, the translation for the expression

al

(zh3-n-mdw.w-ntr [the writing of the divine words]) is simply lepotg . . . γραμμασιν [sacred writing] (hieroglyphic text, 1. 14; Greek

text, ]. 54). The expression “sacred carved [inscriptions]” (τὰ ἱερογλυφικά [γράμματα]) seems to be an alternative nomenclature, which probably referred to the specific inscriptions carved in the walls of temples during the Greco-Roman period, often called “enigmatic writing” nowadays.” Moving

on from the definition of this writing system as a whole, the way Egyptians named their “writing units” (2]=\., or #.t) is no less puzzling.* Among the Egyptians, the concept of ¢j.¢ was much broader than our actual notion of hieroglyph: At Beni Hasan . .. tj.t is used to designate “writing signs.” From the

18th Dynasty to the Roman period the king could be called tj.t-n-r°

where the king was understood to be the earthly symbol or sign for the sun god = rather like a sign which is used to write a whole word, but at the same time it is a representation or image of what it refers [Hornung 1961, 143]. At Edfu [Temple] tj.t occurs frequently and its use covers the range from tj.t “writing symbols” to tj.t “pictorial representations” (Wilson, 1978; transliteration adapted).

Authenticity: Are the hieroglyphs from Hieroglyphica “correct”?

The answer now relies on the criteria for determining three concepts: “hieroglyph,’ “hieroglyphic writing” and “correctness.” Before making that assessment, we must first answer an epistemological question: What is a hi-

51

In fact, the notion of 2.1 corresponded both to the discrete writing signs

that we today recognize as hieroglyphs and to an illustration or even whole

scene (as a conjunct of images, also known as vignettes). In other words,

eroglyph? At first, the answer to this question appears to be so evident, that

a tj.t could be regarded as what I prefer to call a mythogram,” in light of

33.

35.

34.

According to Damascius, Horapollon’s father, Asclepiades, embalmed his broth-

er, Heraiscus: priests and in [diagramma] which clearly

“Asclepiades prepared to render him the honours customary to the particular to wrap his body in the garments of Osiris, mystic signs appeared everywhere on the sheets and around them divine visions revealed the gods with whom his soul now shared its abode” (76E).

Horapollon was persecuted and consequently forbidden to teach and later allegedly converted to Christianity. Ammonios, who was part of Horapollon’s circle and taught in his school, kept his position as a teacher.

36.

I discuss this hypothesis in the second chapter of my doctoral thesis.

In Coptic, this word was kept as

TOE and preserved the sense of “sign, mark,

figure” (Cerny, 180; cf. Crum, 396b). 37.

For mythography | follow Derrida’s interpretation of the concept coined by An-

dré Leroi-Gourhan: “And first of what Leroi-Gourhan calls the ‘mythogram, a writing that spells its symbols pluri-dimensionally; there the meaning is not subjected to the order of a logical time, or to the irreversible temporality of sound”

EMBLEMATICA

Pedro Germano Leal

grammatology. The mythogram (see fig. 3 for an example in the context of

The temple reliefs of the Late Period reflect a full-Aedged tradition of ritual exegesis, a culture of interpretation (“Auslegungskultur”) applied not to texts—as in the more-or-less contemporaneous Alex-

Egyptian hieroglyphic writing) must be understood as an important and active aspect of Egyptian writing and not as a superfluous figurative complement or ornament, either in epigraphic or manuscript support: Many texts, primarily the younger ones, are accompanied by pictures. So several spells of the Book of the Dead are illustrated by vignettes. Some funeral papyri mainly consist.

TETE :

FE

À aa

of

religious

representations,

to which a few explanations are added. In the description of the

journey of che sun god through the

netherworld, generally called Am Duat, the main thing is the representation of the voyage of the sun god during the twelve hours of the night. Though there is a text which links up the different scenes, the texts, written around the pictures, have no significance in themselves, but serve as explanations. This means that the illustrations of the

Fig. 3. Detail of Metternich Stela, showing

T&XtS are ΠΟ artistic ER

but form

erally considered a hieroglyph appearing at the upper-left and upper-right corners, on the sides of the main relief and at the bottom of this cippus of Horus. (Image © Metropolitan Museum, NY; Fletcher Fund, 1950. www.metmuseum.org.)

Se Fe re

in

a series of non-verbal signs and a mythographic scene in relief, with what is gen-

an essential part of the texts, and sometimes even the main part. One keep

mind,

that the hieroglyphs originally were a picture-writing. This ae cannot

purely accidental. ancient Egyptians

be

Obviously the were endowed

with imagination. (Bleeker, 100)

Not only did Egyptian writing come to exist as picture-writing, as in later

andrian

(Derrida, 85). The

mythogram

does not correspond

directly to a particular

and Jewish

institutions of interpretation—but

to pictures.

However, this culture of interpretation is anything but a symptom of Hellenistic influence; on the contrary, it is deeply rooted in the Egyptian cult. (Assmann 1992, 98-99)

Today, however, it is generally accepted that hieroglyph refers only to the discrete signs that correspond to a specific idea (ideogram or determinative), word (logogram) or sound (phonogram) (see fig. 4).% All this is abso-

lutely correct if we take into consideration only the Greek (and to a certain

extent, Western) understanding of what writing was or is: a way to record verbal communication. However, facing the notion of tj.t, it is clear that

Egyptian conception of writing was much different from ours. Because of our own cultural perspective (I would dare to say, logocen-

trism), we tend to determine reckless boundaries between illustration and

text, between image and writing. Among the Egyptians, theologically and grammatologically speaking, these limits were not so clear: a #1 had many ways of conveying meaning—indicating myths, concepts, things, and even sounds. The advent of phonetic writing, among the Greeks, resulted from a need to record oral communication; among the Egyptians, however, the use of phonetic writing was caused by a need inherent in the image to identify its own figures by a name, in other words, to have a voice.” This difference implies a completely distinct notion, and use, of writing. When Horapollon writes about hieroglyphs (1.14, and especially 1.38), or Αἰγύπτια γράμματα [Egyptian letters], as translated by Philippos, he was

possibly using the concept of shai (C2AI, in Coptic; see Crum, 172), which

covers the ideas of “write,” “inscribe,” and “paint,” as well as the respective nouns. This term derives from the ancient Egyptian, and “At Edfu the verb refers to the writing of the texts on papyrus or wooden boards and also on 38.

The names given to these different “reading strategies” or “grammatological functions” were not coined by Egyptians (who did not have names for any grammatological function); that is, at their best, these terms resulted from our scientific approach to the Egyptian writing. In its turn, this approach— which can be completely different from the Egyptian perspective—shapes our general perception of hieroglyphs today.

39.

The Narmer Palette is a formidable example of the early use of phonograms in Egyptian iconography/writing.

steps of its development; the tradition of (nonverbal) picture-reading was essential to the interpretation of Egyptian hieroglyphs:

sound, word or concept, but to a myth (an essential notion or story that can be said with different words, if necessary).

Wr Ὁ}

52

t a

Pedro Germano Leal

EMBLEMATICA

54

What contemporary Egyptology regard

as “hieroglyph” in general

Phonograms (phonetic reading)

What the Ancient Egyptians considered to be a “tit”

ria

ò

2 eS©

=

Ξ

nat In Egyptian hieroglyphs, as in Modern Arabic or Hebraic writing, vowels are represented, and a phonetic hieroglyph could stand for one, two or three consonantal sounds:

SE aes

| |

|

&

τ f

a

=

ms

τ ἢ

Ideograms (ideographic reading)

Some hieroglyphs could be read directly as a word, idea or concept:

=> |

©

U | τῆν (heart)

ΓΞ

l

=r (mouth)

ὃ

A:

=r

J

(sun)

= pr (house)

ἫΝ ” = dhwiv (Thoth)

Determinatives

Determinatives “mute” hieroglyphs placed at the end of a word to determine its correct meaning (avoiding homonyms caused by the complex phonetic system employed in Egyptian writing):

= "»". >

re

=

|

τ.A A

= rn (name)

=, =

2

»»""»-

=A

>

= rnn (to rejoice)

-Ξ--

= nr (herdsman)

A,

us —_—

=rnn (bull)

Dee,

-#3

= nr (to fear)

=nr

(to charge)

Mythograms Mythograms are images or conjuncts of images (scenes) that do not correspond to a particular sound or concept, but to an entire myth or narrative that is not interpreted in a linear way, The hieroglyphic phonetic writing came from this form of writing, which plays a major role in religious literature. In this paper I argue that they were not mere iconographic motifs, “illustrations” or a passive “representation” of the verbal written texts (see Plate 2 for an example of mythograms in context), In Egyptology jargon, | these Mythograms are often called “vignettes”. Naturally 1 consider this terminology | very inappropriate given the simply decorative and secondary sense that the word | denotes in graphic arts.

N.B. The reading strategies mentioned above (in non-Egyptian terms, such as ideograms, phonograms, determinatives, mythograms, etc.) should not be seen as different “categories” of hieroglyphs: as one can observe, some hieroglyphs can be read as a phonogram or as an ideogram depending on the context; some determinatives can assume ideographic meanings and vice-versa, Especially in the Graeco-Roman Period, one single hieroglyphic could correspond to many different sounds/ideas, and at the same time one single sound/idea could be written by different hieroglyphs (cf. Kurth, 2010), so the “orthography” could vary immensely according to the religious/magical motivations of a text.

Fig. 4. Egyptian hieroglyphics.

the temple walls: {ì = n shmw written with images IV 13,4” (Wilson, 1631).

Hence, it is clear that, for the Egyptians, the notions of both image and writing were totally different from our contemporary ones, where image does not have the same “scriptural” status. Applying this discussion to Hieroglyphica (particularly sections A and B), it becomes clear that the work does not concentrate its interpretations exclusively on pictograms, ideograms, rebuses, or determinatives (which we

55

regard nowadays as the only “true hieroglyphs”), but also on mythographs

(still not considered to be “hieroglyphs” by many scholars): “Like Plutarch, [Horapollon] gives a description of pictures which were not of hieroglyph-

ic origin at all, but ordinary religious representations and illustrations” (Iversen 1993, 48). It happens that these “ordinary religious representations and illustrations” are indeed hieroglyphs. From that, it is important to highlight that, at least conceptually, Horapollon was closer to the native Egyptian concept of the hieroglyph than some of our contemporary grammars, which usually ignore the scriptural—or perhaps I should say truly hieroglyphic—nature of Egyptian iconography. When I assert that Horapollon was closer to the concept of hieroglyph than contemporary grammars—whether consciously or not—I am not at all stating that Hieroglyphica is the ultimate reference to read classical Egyptian hieroglyphs or that Horapollon’s interpretations could be applied to different stages of Egyptian writing or culture. Rather, I am arguing that the full breadth of notion of hieroglyph found in Hieroglyphica should be taken into consideration as relevant information that helps us better to understand this work (especially the “authenticity” of its hieroglyphs) and its origin. Moreover, Hieroglyphica is of great importance as a way to revive native culture. The religious aspect of hieroglyphs should not be seen merely as an instrument of social control (as it was rooted in Egyptian religion); rather, it should be seen as a piece of evidence of Egyptian theology and cultural identity: as living proof for the Egyptians that their gods did exist as their words were written down—something opposed to the nature of the alphabet which has been more or less ignored by Christianity, in theological terms. In Ancient Egypt, even a human being could be a #j.1 (image, hieroglyph) of the gods;*! and during Horapollon’s time, an image

or statue could have a soul (Damascius, 76E). According to some cosmogonies, everything that existed was but the result of Thoth’s reading of the hieroglyphs created by Ptah in his heart.** Needless to say, this writing had an intimate bond with native religion, a bond that would lead to its oblivion. 40.

As Iversen adds, this had already been pointed out by J.-F. Champollion (300).

41.

In the Temple of Debod (now in Madrid, Spain), for example, King Adikhalamani is referred to as the “image (2.1) of Ra” (this was a common royal title).

42.

According to the Memphite cosmogony, for example; Jan Assmann (2007) gives an outstanding introduction to the subject and the cultural implications of the Creation though hieroglyphs.

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EMBLEMATICA

The fate of “hieroglyphic writing”

One should not expect the hieroglyphic writing of the Greco-Roman petiod, exposed as it was to contemporary historical and political vicissitudes, to be the same as that used in Egypt during the first millennium B.C. Like any cultural entity, Egyptian writing was still subject to the consequences of time, despite the strong convention that kept the hieroglyphic system in relative uniformity for thousands of years. During the Greco-Roman period, Egyptian writing changed more rapidly; various factors may have caused this, such as the rise of Greek as the language (and culture) of the elite and its implications, the gradual disman-

tlement of socioeconomic power and hierarchy of native religion, the campaign against native pagans and their beliefs (see Tedeschi and Crevatin, 26), and the systematic destruction of literary sources. In this context, by means of seduction and violence, hieroglyphic writing became more and more complex: new signs, meanings, and rules were invented without the “old time” rigorous convention, to the point of creating a “cryptographic” or enigmatic system.” The final blow against hieroglyphs came with the prohibition and subsequent persecution of pagan cults in Byzantine Egypt, which condemned Egyptian writing to oblivion for an obvious reason: the hieroglyph became a “Bellerophon letter”* The latest known example of hieroglyphic epigraphy is the Graffito of Esmet-Akhom (or Philae 436) from the temple of Philae, dated 24 August 394. However, as I mentioned before, the Shrine of Isis of Menouthis was covered with hieroglyphs and may have been the very last example of its kind. Unfortunately, Peter Mongus destroyed it in 485-86. The last dated example of Demotic is also a graffito on the walls of the temple of Philae, from 11 December 452. I resist the idea that the 43.

44. 45.

The number of hieroglyphs varied from around 700 in Middle Egyptian, to approximately 7,000 in the Prolemaic period. For an introduction on “Ptolemaic Signs” or “Cryptographic Hieroglyphs,” see Herbert W. Fairman, Etienne Drioton, and δ. Sauneron. The composition of monumental hieroglyphic inscriptions ceased after Theodosius I’s decree of 391 against paganism. We may conjecture that Horapollon’s father, Asclepiades, knew Demotic, especially given his interest in native culture/literature. As Horapollon was taught by his father (Maspero, 172), he may have had some knowledge of Demotic as well. I explore this hypothesis in my thesis.

Pedro Germano Leal

57

epigraphic usage of hieroglyphs (including Demotic) can establish, in itself, the lifespan of knowledge about hieroglyphs. Other factors must be taken into consideration, and Hieroglyphica is crucial for this discussion.

When trying to determine the “correctness” of Hieroglyphica’s chapters, one should not expect Horapollon, or his source, to explain the meaning of a hieroglyph as it was given a thousand years earlier; rather, one should understand it as a marginal tradition, banned from social life: a clandestine writing and philosophical tool. Nonetheless, this late stage of Egyptian writing must not be underestimated. As long as it falls on the continuum ofa cultural phenomenon (the “classical Egyptian hieroglyphic writing” itself) and works as a social convention (even in small underground circles), it is genuinely a writing system from a semiotic perspective, no matter how

“ruined” it may appear in relation to earlier stages of Egyptian writing or the common sense of “hieroglyph.”

An anthropological question: What defines a “correct hieroglyph” Erik Hornung presents the connection between Hieroglyphica and the history of Egyptian writing in a very distinctive way: Hieroglyphs, which first appeared in Egypt around 3000 B.C., were

still being composed almost 3,500 years later. However, by the fifth century AD, the initial meanings of the signs had become entirely obscured by fantastic allegorical interpretations. One of the last philosophers of the Alexandrian school, Horapollon, wrote a text on hieroglyphs in which he states: “When [the Egyptians] want to show

‘open, they paint a rabbit, for this animal always has its eyes open”

(Hieroglyphica, 1.26); to indicate “mother” they paint a picture of a vulture, for as he points out, this species has no male; fertilization takes place through the wind (Hieroglyphica, 1.11). Horapollon was correct about the choice of signs for “mother” and “open,” but he was quite wrong about the basis for choosing these hieroglyphs. The ancient Egyptians were far from such speculations; for them there were very simple phonetic connections between the image of a vulture and the word “mother” and between that of a hare and the verb “to open.”

(Hornung 1992, 17-19)

Although short, this excerpt is symptomatic: first, because of the interesting concession Hornung makes in saying that hieroglyphs were composed until the fifth century (a perspective not shared by other authorities on the

58

EMBLEMATICA

Pedro Germano Leal

subject); second, for the fundamental contradiction it embodies. If Hornung asserts that the “meanings of the signs had become entirely obscured” (emphasis added), how can he allege that “Horapollon was correct” about the meaning of some hieroglyphs? Not only this: How can the “basis for choos-

ing” interfere with “correct” meaning? If I declare hypothetically that the

letter l is used to write the concept of “oneself” (the first-person pronoun) because it resembles a standing person (according to my social convention), would the relationship between signifier and signified be wrong? No. Will

the explanation be wrong? From an anthropological point of view, the an-

swer is probably no. In my opinion, however, the most problematic passage is the last: “the ancient Egyptians were far from

such speculations;

for them

there were

very simple phonetic connections.” I must disagree. The rebus principle was not merely a phonetic “representation”*’—this interpretation of the phenomenon.

it is obvious that the Egyptian language did not remain unchanged for millennia (see Wilson, xxxviii): the traditional orthography of some words could remain the same while the language itself kept changing below the surface. Consequently, the phonetic motivation between signifier and sig-

nified could be lost in some words, and the rebus convention would give way to a symbolic one that could explain this relation. The tradition of finding and interpreting “occult” meanings in hieroglyphs (and hieroglyphic reas’, which I call “hermeneutica hieroglyphica,’ is as old as the Egyptian writing system itself, and Hieroglyphica is not the only Egyptian treatise to explore this subject.’” The Papyrus Carlsberg VII, also known as Fragments of a Hieroglyphic Dictionary, has a very familiar structure: ἧς,

is our contemporary

not arbitrary, but part of a whole cosmological system; from an image, the

sound could be produced, in a process that reproduced Creation: Theology teaches us, therefore,

above all two things: one regarding the conception of the cosmos and another regarding the conception of hieroglyphs. It stresses the “scriptural” structure of the cosmos and the “cosmic” structure of the hiero-

cosmos.

The

late-Egyptian

account,

however,

goes

even

“rabbit,” originally rebuses, a metaphorical principle that explains, for example, the use of the crocodile hieroglyph as determinative to words related

to violence or anger. If the crocodile hieroglyph had this hidden metaphorical truth or quality, why would other sacred animals be ignored? Moreover, am

sumption,

’

I nor

aware does

of a

single

Hornung

ancient

provide

E gyptian any

such

statement

ev idence.

suppor ting

what

principle in many of his hieroglyphs.

Therefore, it is difficult to sustain that the Egyptians understood a rebus as a flat “phonogram” (even if our contemporary understanding of such signs tells us so), especially in the Greco-Roman period. So what Horapollon does is to apply to these two signs, “vulture” and

Neither

with

this authentic passage be considered wrong? Horapollon applies this same

a step further in conceiving of the world as the result not only of an act of speech, but of writing. (Assmann 2007, 29)

46,

in accordance

hieroglyph means “heart” (ib), not because of the rebus principle, but because the god Thoth (who has the form of an ibis) is the heart of Ra. Could

ated by verbal articulation presuppose a structural analogy between and

Ibis. ie. “A heart descends”

According to this text, dating from about the first century A.D., the Ibis

glyphic signs. . . . All creation accounts that view the world as generlanguage

ie. An

Re’ said about it: “it descended from the body.” i.e. A Ba descends. Le... . Everything is perceived through him. It is a “hjn.”.. [τ is the ancient one, who emerged from the box. It is the palette. ... Everything in the land is perceived through the treatises and die. utensils, Ww hich came into existence through bee It is his finger... Thoth, the chief of the marvels in the house of clothing, who regulates the entire land. (Iversen 1958, 3)

For the Egyptians, the written sign was

The creation account of the Memphite

99

this

as-

Moving on to the idea of “correctness,” one cannot maintain, from an anthropological or semiotic perspective, that a given cultural phenom-

enon is more “correct” or “better” than earlier or later stages of its own

development. Latin is no more correct, or better, than Portuguese. French Renaissance painting is no better than Modern French painting, or viceversa: they are cultural phenomena, legitimized by convention. 47.

The sd

Onomastica (Gardiner), the “Sign Papyrus” (British Museum ESA

10672; see Griffith) and Chaeremon’s Hier coglyphica (only a few fragments of this work have been preserved by Tzetzes in his Exegesis in Iliadem, 1. 97; see Horst,

25) are also examples of Egyptian metalinguistic treatises or interests. None of these works or fragments, however, gives a full explanation of the Egyptian hieroglyphic system.

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EMBLEMATICA

Consequently, I avoid the use of concepts such as “correct” and “wrong” when studying Hieroglyphica. Analyzing the hieroglyphs individually, in terms of their signifier-signified relationship, I prefer to identify them as “attested,”“* “plausible,” or “unattested.” Also, to investigate the relationship between Hieroglyphica and earlier stages of Egyptian writing, one must clarify that the object of such an approach cannot be the chapter or the signifier (i.e., the hieroglyph, which can encompass many different semiotic values), but each meaning offered within this work—what I call

an “entry” (see fig. 2). This means that instead of stating that a chapter is “correct” or “wrong, a scientific analysis should point out whether or not the meaning of a particular hieroglyph can be attested in the sources we have available. In order to ascertain that a chapter is “wrong,” it would be necessary for us to be aware of all evidence produced during that period, even as we know that such evidence was systematically destroyed, with the risk of producing an argumentum ad ignorantiam. Manifestly, the above-mentioned principle is in strong disagreement with the methods of other scholars: If we take into account mere quantitative data, we find a total of 162 hieroglyphs (as many as we may find in books I and II—30 and 118), the interpretation is (more or less) true in about 90 cases, i.e., in 57%

of the total. This shows unequivocally that the knowledge referred to by Horapollon was of extremely poor quality. The rate is also too low to admit that Horapollon had actual knowledge of the Egyptian hieroglyphic system, as all other scholars have so far acknowledged. (Tedeschi and Crevatin, 21) 48.

When the meaning given by Horapollon can be attested in earlier stages of the Egyptian writing, by comparing it with a Prolemaic sign list (Kurth), a lexicon (Wilson; see also Daumas), and other sources and pieces of evidence.

49.

1 consider “plausible” a hieroglyph that—although not attested in the sources available—makes use of the principles of hieroglyphic writing. For example, Horapollon states that the vulture may be used to write “boundary” (or “limit”). T have been unable to attest any use of this hieroglyph with this meaning. However, the vulture often can be used phonetically to write the sound “n” (Kurth, 84) and the Egyptian word for territory is hyz (Wilson, 1080). Therefore, although not attested, the vulture could “plausibly” be used to write phoneti-

Pedro Germano Leal

G. Tedeschi and Franco Crevatin, authors of the most recent edition of Hieroglyphica (into Italian), reach some very strong conclusions. I do not have the slightest intention to discredit their work, but I must firmly disagree with some of their results for the following reasons: (1) there is compelling evidence to believe that the Hieroglyphica we possess is not the original work; (2) it is not clear what the authors consider to be the “Egyptian hieroglyphic

system” in this context; (3) therefore, the authors do not demonstrate their

criteria to establish what is “more or less” “correct” or “true” (should the

reader suppose that the criterion is the exact correspondence of Horapollon’s interpretation and the Egyptian hieroglyphs of centuries before him?);*° and (4) the argument from authority, in the end, is absolutely innocuous. The diagnosis must be that absence of evidence is being accepted as evi-

dence of absence. Should Tedeschi and Crevatin’s data be correct (something of which I cannot be certain, as their criteria are not clear), the con-

clusion would be, at best, that Horapollon did not have “actual knowledge of the Egyptian hieroglyphic system” as it was used three centuries—or more—before he was born.*! The question would then be: Where did Horapollon claim he was able to do that (so as to consider he was wrong)?

There is absolutely no evidence of any such thing.

Revisiting the canon: A different methodological approach to Hieroglyphica and the authenticity of its hieroglyphs

In analyzing Hieroglyphica’s entries, | attempted to establish a clear methodological approach in order to keep myself from the temptation to interpret each chapter ad libitum. In that process, I based my work on the following arguments: a. The Hieroglyphica we possess is not the “original” work (and therefore an investigation to identify the different styles/authors should be undertaken);

50.

cally the word Ay. Because of the many enigmatic possibilities of hieroglyphic writing during the Greco-Roman

period, the work of Fairman, Drioton, and

Sauneron provides indispensable references for determining the “plausibility” of Horapollon hieroglyphs, not excluding other sources.

61

Should the answer to this question be “yes,” for example, we would need to discard most of the hieroglyphs from the Greco-Roman period, as they had different meanings in relation to the “classical” Middle Egyptian, or did not exist. (As already mentioned, in Middle Egyptian there were around 700 hieroglyphs, and during the Greco-Roman period, this number reached more than 7,000, mytho-

grams excluded.) 51.

Nonetheless, I must recognize that Tedeschi and Crevatin did perform a relevant semiotic analysis of the chapters.

EMBLEMATICA

c. d.

The “entry” must be the minimum unit of Hieroglyphica (instead of chapters or hieroglyphs) for both quantitative and qualitative analysis; Mythograms are hieroglyphs in the light of the Egyptian understanding of writing (and not simple “illustrations”);

The “authenticity” of the entries should be defined by their “attestation” or “plausibility,” instead of using the misleading and flat dichotomy of “right” and “wrong” (especially once there is no material evidence from the period for comparative analysis); e. The hieroglyph used to write the described concept shall be considered “attested,” even if partially. An examination” using these simple criteria may produce three different outcomes. In the first, sections A and B correspond to 51% of Hieroglyphica’s entries. This is because the chapters in these two sections usually have more entries than in section C (see fig. 2). A second outcome, however, is also possible. So far I have been able to identify 91% of sections A and B with earlier stages of Egyptian writing (62% of the hieroglyphs in those sections are attested, while 29% are plausible). Hypothetically, therefore, Philippos and other later contributors may have created part of the other 9%; alternatively, these may simply refer to new hieroglyphs or usages not attested in earlier sources (see fig. 5). If Horapollon did not have access to one or even a few authentic sources, and the tradition of hieroglyphs was indeed forgotten, then his “archaeological work” would be remarkable. In addition, this number convinces me

that Horapollon did not merely “guess” the meanings:

It is worth noticing that, if somebody entirely ignorant of the principles of hieroglyphic writing asked a modern Egyptologist about the

meaning of the various signs of a hieroglyphic inscription, merely by

pointing at the most characteristic and conspicuous of them, his general impressions about their nature would probably come very close to those entertained by Horapollo. (Iversen 1993, 151, n. 34)

If taken seriously, Iversen’s hypothesis is absurd for several reasons. First, the most frequent hieroglyphs are used as phonograms (according to our contemporary understanding, I must admit). If asked for the meaning of the hieroglyphjy, any competent Egyprologist today would answer something 52.

The results presented here are provisional, an outcome of current research. Derails in full of this study may appear in a future edition and translation of Hieroglyphica.

like, “this sign was used for a glottal stop, /2/.” By no means would this give a “Horapollian” impression of the hieroglyph

63

“Authenticity” of hieroglyphs in Sections A and B

or reveal its nature (as a rebus).

Second, practically none of the most frequent hieroglyphs used in Middle Egyptian, for example, are explained in Hieroglyphica.* Third, to understand the sign as an ideogram is 2 x 4] one thing, but to identify the relationship

between

signifier

and signified with the Egyptian

theological tradition (or its ru-

ins) is something else—and I am

@, Apte: 107 Conjectural: 49 @ Unactested:16 Fig. 5: “Authenticity” of the hieroglyphs in sec-

tions A and B of Hieroglyphica.

"ἢ

not inclined to believe that “somebody entirely ignorant of the principles of hieroglyphic writing” would be able to establish this link. The third possible outcome of applying the criteria to which I referred above is that, if the “original Hieroglyphica”—the

one written by

Horapollon—corresponds to sections A and/or B (according to authorship scenario 1, see above, 45), then the work is somehow a continuum of Egyptian writing: in other words, there is a strong connection between

Horapollon’s hieroglyphs and the tradition, and this connection should w

b.

Pedro Germano Leal

μι

62

Horapollon certainly had the opportunity to see hieroglyphic inscriptions. From Zacharias’s description of the Shrine of Isis, we may suppose that he had, in fact, very close contact with them. Why did Horapollon thus not explain the most frequent hieroglyphs in his work, even if he did not know their meanings? Three hypotheses may be explored here: (1) the treatise is not complete and he did indeed explain such hieroglyphs in his original work, now lost; (2) he chose to give an explanation of hieroglyphs with particular theological and enigmatic meanings (especially determinatives, ideograms and mythograms)—but this would suppose that he knew the values of the other frequent hieroglyphs (something that could be explained by previous knowledge of Demotic: a comparative study between Demotic signs and Horapollon’s choice of hieroglyphs could help understanding this phenomenon)—(3) he did not know the meanings and chose only those for which he could find an explanation, and which, by chance, are not the most frequent ones. These hypotheses will be studied in future research regarding the external evidence surrounding Hieroglyphica.

not be underestimated. The clear bond between Horapollon and the Egyptian native tradition and the resistance to accepting Horapollon as a “philosopher” by intellectuals such as Damascius, together with internal evidence (the analysis of the philosophical arguments within the explanation of the hieroglyphs) may be evidence that Hieroglyphica is not necessarily a Neoplatonic work, as it is commonly asserted, but, as I argue, the continuum ofa hieroglyphic tradition. We may then ask whether all this would mean that Horapollon knew how to read “classical” Egyptian hieroglyphs.

Horapollon’s competence My current thesis is that the “internal evidence” is so far insufficient to determine whether or not Horapollon was able to read/write hieroglyphs from earlier stages of Egyptian writing:* he does, however, display a consistent knowledge of ancient literary sources (see Sottas and Drioton, 83), and refers to conflicting theological notions with regard to the indigenous theology available in the sources that he supposedly was able to read.” The question remaining is that nowhere in Hieroglyphica do we find Horapollon claiming that his work explains how Egyptian writing works, or how to write through hieroglyphs.** On the contrary, he repeats constantly the formula: “writing X the Egyptians draw Y” Why not “we draw”? Why not something like, “if you want to write X, you must draw Y and Z”? Actually, the work has the structure of a study of the writing system, a study that tries to explain (or perhaps prove) the connection between signifier and signified by means of a theological explanation—and vice versa. This method of exegesis (which I call “hermeneutica hieroglyphica”) had a longlasting and significant role in Egyptian tradition.

54.

I cannot avoid considering that Iversen’s conclusion that “Horapollo was un-

doubtedly unable to read Egyptian” (Iversen 1993, 151, n. 34) is at best a fallacy

wn LA

of incomplete evidence. To suggest that Horapollon could not read “Egyptian” is at least naive, as his work was probably written in Coptic (Egyptian language).

56.

Pedro Germano Leal

EMBLEMATICA

A good example of this “conflict” is the first chapter of Hieroglyphica. There, the

meaning of the uraeus is based, not purely on Ancient Egyptian culture—as one could perhaps expect—but on a synchronic theological notion, coined in the cultural amalgam of Alexandria. Any suggestion to the contrary creates a straw man fallacy (by misrepresentation), unless evidence is given.

65

It is apparent, though, that Horapollon had some knowledge of hieroglyphic writing, but to understand the nature and extent of this knowledge, external evidence must be taken into consideration. In this article, I am focusing on the problems of “authorship” and “authenticity,” but a second part of my research will be presented in a future publication, and it will address two other topics, drawing on Horapollon’s possible sources and the place of Hieroglyphica in the “hermeneutica hieroglyphica” tradition: whether Horapollon really know hieroglyphs and whether Hieroglyphica is a neoplatonic work. My overall hypothesis is that Hierog/yphica is not only a philosophicalscriptural treatise, and the continuum of an Egyptian tradition, but also a powerful argument that could refute the iconoclastic allegations of the Christians (such as Shenoute), reaffirm native culture,” and perhaps explain the scholarly animus concerning a man who was not a “philosopher, but a “grammarian.”

The need for a new translation and study of Hieroglyphica As I mentioned before, with regard to Hieroglyphica, even well-known au-

thors follow a pattern of misunderstanding and prejudice. Here and there, one still finds attempts to disqualify Horapollon’s knowledge, as was common in the nineteenth century, though not necessarily based on a scientific approach, This logocentric perspective creates an argumentum ad ignorantiam that fails to recognize the importance of Hieroglyphica, not only in its historical context, but also in its influence on the European Renaissance and the significance of such work to a contemporary theory of writing. No translation can be perfect: as in physics, some energy (here a metaphor for meaning) is always “lost” when transferred from one system (language) to another. In addition, the resulting translation is, of course, limited by the translator's judgments and addresses a particular mindset. Where the English editions of Hieroglyphica are concerned (Boas 1950 and Cory

1840), despite their uncontested historical importance, if it is accepted that the original work was written in Coptic, converted into Greek, rendered in neo-Latin, and finally translated into English, it is clear that much has been lost in translation. Therefore, it is certain that all this is very prejudicial, for 57.

]

6ά

Allegedly, Horapollon is also the author of a long poem, Patria Alexandrina (Photius, 280; see also Maspero, 177). Although this work is now lost, the title is representative.

EMBLEMATICA

66

the understanding of such work is not a matter of preciosity, because the subject of Hieroglyphica is precisely the most fragile element in this process, namely, meaning. Moreover, the English editions are also very poor in elucidating the relationship among the hieroglyphs, their interpretation, and earlier stages of Egyptian writing;** and, of course, they are unaware of many recent developments in the field. In the case of George Boas’s edition, for example, it is easy to identify how the “logocentric paradigm” interferes in the quality of the translation. For a start, Boas, along with many other modern translators, makes very symptomatic choices when translating the term γράφοντες (plural participle of ypadw):” Chapter: 1.04 Μῆνα δὲ γράφοντες, βάϊν ζωγραφοῦσιν ἡ σελήνην ἐπεστραμμένην εἰς τὸ Greek: Boas:

κάτω.

Τὸ depict the month, they draw a branch, or the moon with its horns turned downward.

Chapter: 1.08

Greek: Boas:

Ἄρεα δὲ γράφοντες καὶ Ἀφροδίτην, δύο ἱέρακας ζωγραφοῦσιν.

| When they mean Ares and Afrodite, they draw two hawks.

Chapter: 1.12 Greek: Ἥφαιστον δὲ γράφοντες, κάνθαρον καὶ γῦπα ζωγραφοῦσιν. ΤῸ symbolize Hephaestus, they draw a beetle [scarab] and a vulture. Boas:

The first thing to be observed here is the lack of consistency in translating a

term that is being repeated in the same structure/context (which naturally would not affect its semantic field); but no less relevant or emblematic is the resistance to translating γράφοντες in its most recurrent sense: precisely

“to write.” Denying γράφοντες its “scriptural” meaning constitutes an iconoclastic argument against the hieroglyph—intriguingly very much in the terms of Shenoute of Atripe. 58.

Recent German (Thissen), French (Walle and Vergote), Italian (Tedeschi and

Crevatin), and even Spanish (Zarate) editions contain some critical apparatus

and interpretation. Boas makes clear that his interest is to offer a translation for iconologists like himself who are interested in the impact of Hieroglyphica in the Renaissance, Therefore, his edition lacks consistent analysis of the hieroglyphs. 59.

γράφοντες is the most common term in section A (see appendix, below, 72).

Pedro Germano Leal

67

The choice of terms such as “symbolize” or “represent” is inappropriate due to the nature of the underlying thesis of Hieroglyphica: in this work, it is made clear that the relationship between signifier and signified is not arbitrary or conventional, but highly motivated. Another frequent problem is the incautious translation of some key concepts, such as Αἰών [Aion]:

Chapter: 1.01 Greek: Aidva δ᾽ ἑτέρως γράψαι βουλόμενοι, ὄφιν ζωγραφοῦσιν, ἔχοντα τὴν οὐρὰν Boas:

ὑπὸ τὸ λοιπὸν σῶμα κρυπτομένην.

But when they wish to represent Eternity differently, they draw a serpent with its tail concealed by the rest of its body.

Αἰών can be perfectly translated as “eternity” or “age,” but readers of the Boas edition who are searching for the use of a uraeus to write “eternity” in Middle Egyptian will be misled (and perhaps infer that “Horapollon is wrong”). However, Αἰὼν is also the god of eternity, who was the patron of Alexandria and, not surprisingly, could appear in the form of a uraeus (which was, as expected, a syncretic deity connected with other indigenous serpent gods, especially Kneph, Mehen, and even Apep) and was beyond doubt adored by Horapollon circle under the name of Aiwy. According to Damascius, Heraiscus had the natural gift of distinguishing between animated and inanimate sacred statues. He had but to look at one of them and

immediately his heart was afflicted by divine frenzy while both his

body and soul leapt up as if possessed by god. But if he was not moved in such a way, the statue was inanimate and devoid of divine inspiration. It was in this way that he recognized that the ineffable statue of Aion was possessed by the god who was worshipped by the Alexandrians, being at the same time Osiris and Adonis as a result of a truly

mystical act of union. (76E)

Furthermore, according to Severus, among the idols found by Christians during the destruction of the shrine of Isis in Menuthis, was a series of idols including a serpent, the “rebel dragon”: Quand il vit la multitude des idoles et qu'il aperçut l'autel couvert

de sang, il s'écria en égyptien: “Il n'y a qu'un seul Dieu,’ ayant voulu

dire par là qu'il fallait extirper l'erreur du polythéisme. Il nous tendit

d'abord l’idole de Kronos qui était entièrement remplie de sang, ensuite toutes les autres idoles des démons, puis une collection variée

LAN

ET TD D ai

0

A

68

eg

ee

Pr

EMBLEMATICA

Pedro Germano Leal

d’idoles de toutes espèces, notamment des chiens, des chats, des singes, des crocodiles et des reptiles; car dans le temps les Égyptiens adoraient aussi ces animaux. Il tendit encore le dragon rebelle. Son idole était de bois, et il me semble que ceux qui adoraient ce serpent, ou plutôt que ce dernier en voulant être adoré de la sorte, rappelaient la

Boas:

rébellion des premiéres créatures, qui se fit par le bois (arbre), sur les

conseils du serpent.

This serpent was found precisely on the same premises where Chronos [Time] was worshipped. Finally, Boas and other translators do not make any effort to decipher the text behind the Greek translation. I recently came to the conclusion that a comparative study on paronomasia" and alliteration in Hieroglyphica could facilitate a better understanding of the original work and its context, not to mention the possible impact on translation. The first scholar to highlight the importance of paronomasia in Hieroglyphica was J. A. Goulianof, but some of his examples are eccentric, to say the least. Nonetheless, aware of this possibility, I was able to identify some relevant instances of punning that now play a major role in my translation studies of Hieroglyphica. Here I offer a single example: Chapter: 1.06

Greek:

Θεὸν βουλόμενοι σημῆναι, ἢ ὕψος, ἣ ταπείνωσιν, 7 ὑπεροχὴν, Halua, ἢ νίκην, [ἢ Ἄρεα, ἢ Ἀφροδίτην], ἱέρακα ζωγραφοῦσι..... ὕψος δὲ, ἐπεὶ τὰ μὲν ἕτερα

Leal:

69

κατευθὺ χωρεῖν, μόνος δὲ ἱέραξ εἰς ὕψος κατευθὺ πέτεται. ταπείνωσιν dé, ἐπεὶ τὰ ἕτερα ζῷα οὐ κατὰ κάθετον πρὸς τοῦτο χωρεῖ, πλαγίως δὲ καταφέρεται, ἱέραξ δὲ κατευθὺ ἐπὶ τὸ ταπεινὸν τρέπεται-

When they wish to symbolize a god, or something sublime, or something lowly, or superiority, or victory, or Ares, or Aphrodite, they draw a hawk.

. [A]nd sublime things, since the other birds, when they wish to fly upwards, proceed on a slant, it being impossible for them to rise directly. Only the hawk flies straight upwards. And lowliness, because the other birds cannot ἢν directly downwards, but always on a slant. But the hawk is borne directly downwards. When they want to signify god, or height ,® or lowness ,% or superiority , or blood, or triumph, [or Ares or Aphrodite ] they draw a falcon. ... [A]bove,

|

obliquely, being incapable of moving vertically, while the falcon alone

|

because when

the other animals want to fly® above, they ascend

flies to above in a straight line. [The falcon signifies] below”, because other animals do not move vertically, they descend obliquely, [while] the falcon betakes itselfin a straight line to below."

ὕψος in Greek would be “height” or perhaps even “sublime.” However, three facts led my translation in another direction: (1) the hieroglyph used, (2) the context as it is explained in the chapter, and (3) alliteration: (1) the hieroglyph of the falcon $ could be used to write fr in Egyptian (for it was the animal consecrated to Horus, also fr), and the word /iry “upper part, above” (2PAI in Coptic) could therefore be written with this hieroglyph; (2) and the same word ὕψος is used to

ἀδυνατοῦντα

characterize where the birds fly to (“εἰς ὕψος κατευθὺ πέτεται᾽), implicating that

When he [Paralios] saw the multitude of idols and noticed the altar covered with blood, he cried out in Egyptian: “There is only one God,” meaning that the error of polytheism had to be extirpated. First, he handed us the idol of Kronos that was completely filled with blood, then all the other idols of demons, and an assorted

translation as “above” is correct, it creates alliteration with many of the other concepts and words used in this chapter, by means of the sound of 2 (in Coptic), as may be observed below in the footnotes.

(ou

εἰς ὕψος πέτεσθαι προαιρούμενα,

πλαγίως

περιφέρεται,

its translation as “sublime” is very inappropriate in this context; and (3) if the

60.

collection of idols of all kinds, including dogs, cats, monkeys, crocodiles and rep-

61.

tiles; because during that time the Egyptians also worshiped these animals, Furthermore, he handed us the rebel dragon. Its idol was made of wood, and it seems to me that those who worshipped this serpent, or rather that the latter wanting to be worshipped in this way, recalled the rebellion of the first creatures, which happened through the wood (tree), on the advice of the serpent. (Zacharias, 29) Paronomasia, or punning, “is known from the earliest corpus of religious texts— the Pyramid Texts—and it continued to be an important feature of funerary and temple texts until the end of the Egyptian language when Coptic magical texts continued the tradition. The Edfu texts make extensive use of puns by relating two or more words which sound the same but have different meanings. One of the aims of word play is to increase the magical potency of the texts...” (Wilson, xxxii).

.

ταπείνωσιν < 2Pal < hry.

ὑπεροχὴν < 2OTE < hry. νίκην < or mé ἀπὸ or ἀπὸ hr nbti (“superior to the enemy”?). Apea< 2WP < hr. The Egyptian god Horus was very often referred to as Ares or Apollo in Greek. Ἀφροδίτην. The Greek goddess Aphrodite was the consort of Ares, in the same

way Hathor was considered Horus’s spouse. πέτεσθαι < AWA < hir(y). G2Pal, “to above, upward.” ταπεινωσιν, hr. G2Pal, “to below, downward.”

70

EMBLEMATICA

As one can observe, my translation diverges from that of Boas. There are many reasons for this: first, Boas translated from a neo-Latin version, and not from Greek; second, as the translators to Greek (that is, Philippos) and neo-Latin did not have the means for an etymological/comparative analysis of the text, they probably translated the concepts according to their most common sense ipsis litteris—a choice that contaminated Boas’s translation—also verbatim. Instead, I translated these concepts from Greek into English after analyzing their semantic field in Egyptian (Coptic) and hieroglyphs. As a result, I was able to identify in this little fragment a formidable example of paronomasia—and the most repeated pattern there, 2*P (Ar), or just the initial 2 (4) could be written exactly using the falcon È, (hr).

If this provisional translation is correct, it can be taken as evidence that Hieroglyphica was written in Coptic and that its original may display one of the most traditional characteristics of native Egyptian literature: alliteration. The repetition of sounds continues elsewhere in the chapter and may also mean that Horapollon (or his source) was aware of their phonetic punning and chose these signs on purpose. This chapter of Hieroglyphica also has a great similarity with Papyrus Carlsberg VII because both have the concepts arranged according to their first sound. More strikingly, “we find the same principle employed in a small demotic vocabulary from Heidelberg, where /yw and a sequence of words beginning with Air are placed together because of their initial 1” (Iversen 1958, 8). All this, I am inclined to believe, underlines the indigenous nature of Hieroglyphica.

ey To demonstrate one by one the problems of the English editions of Hieroglyphica is counterproductive: if one considers that this imprecision is a wide phenomenon within the editions cited here (as can be demonstrated),

the conclusion is that the actual meaning of the work and the general understanding of its purpose would be better appreciated in a new translation. With regard to emblem studies, a more accurate translation could be used by nonspecialists in Egyptology as a basis for comparative analyses aimed at understanding more fully the reception of Hieroglyphica in different times (e.g., by contrasting different translations and commentaries) and highlighting its importance not only as a source of motifs for artwork, but as an authority and a model for the creation of “speaking pictures” in

Pedro Germano Leal

71

τῆς Renaissance. Moreover, from the critical apparatus used τὸ understand Hieroglyphica and its relationship with the Egyptian tradition, or the status of image/writing among the Egyptians, there may arise new and relevant semiotic and iconological instruments of analysis to examine the relationship between picturae and subscriptiones in emblems—and vice versa. Works Cited

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Athanassiadi, Polymnia. “Persecution and Response in Late Paganism:

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X

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B (2: 1-30)

àSS

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Rare and very short (chap. 9; 10; 21; 25; 28)

ù

"

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ri

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A

Image to Text: A Possible Visual Source

for Sir Thomas Wyatt’s Verse Epistles CHRIS STAMATAKIS University College London

In his translation of a verse epistle by Luigi Alamanni, Sir Thomas Wyatt supplies details not found in the text of his Italian source. I argue that Wyatt drew here on a visual source of inspiration—namely, a woodcut device used by the Sessa family of printer-publishers to preface their edition of Alamanni. In addition, this article questions some received explanations for Wyatt’s departure from his Italian model (Wyatt's supposed fondness for a homely English idiom and native animal lore) and hints, instead, at Wyatt's interest in early modern visual culture, in ad-

dition to his obvious debts to literary sources and traditions.

he verse epistle beginning “Myne owne J[oh]n Poyntz, composed by Sir Thomas Wyatt (ca. 1504-42) and addressed to his long-standing friend and fellow courtier John Poyntz, is the most frequently copied item in the manuscript culture of Henrician courtier

writing (Carlson, 151). Among several points of literary interest in this poem, not least the strong claim it possesses to being the first Horatian

verse letter written in English, is a puzzling departure that Wyatt makes

from his Italian source. An epistolary satire composed by Luigi Alamanni

(1495-1556) and addressed to Tommaso Sertini, appearing as Satira X in Alamanni’s Opere toscane, has long been identified as the principal inspiration behind Wyatt's poem. At times, however, Wyatt’s English rendering is not averse to substantial departures from this Italian model. Of particular interest is Wyatt's handling of the following lines: fet

Emblematica, Volume 21. Copyright

© 2014 by AMS

Press, Inc. All rights reserved.

I

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λας εν RA

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td

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2

Co

EP

OEE

γε

EMBLEMATICA Io non saprei chiamar cortese & bello Chi sia Thersite, ne figliuol d’Anchise Chi sia di senno ἃς di pieta rubello. Non saprei chi piu Ἰ cor nell'oro mise Dirgli Alessandro, e 1 pauroso & uile Chiamarlo il forte, ch’i Centauri ancise. (Alamanni 1532, CCly, Il. 49-54) [I could not call someone who was a Thersites courtly and refined,

nor call someone who was a rebel against good judgment and piety an Aeneas, son of Anchises. I could not call someone whose heart was

bent only on gold an Alexander, nor call someone who was fearful and cowardly

a Hercules, the hero who slew the Centaurs.]!

In Wyatt’s hands, these lines are transformed into the following sequence: Lame not he suche eloquence to bost to marke the singing crowe as the swanne nor call the lyon off coward bestes the most chat cannot rake a mouse as the catt cann and he thar diethe for hungar off gold Call him Alexander

(Wyatt, “Myne owne J[oh]n Poyntz,’ Il. 43-48)?

The image of a cat catching a mouse, not found in Alamanni but added here by Wyatt in this first verse epistle to Poyntz, is particularly striking, not least since it also underpins the pivotal scene in Wyatt's second verse epistle to the same John Poyntz—an Aesopian or Henrysonian fable of the town and country mouse, which begins “My mothers maydes.” At first glance, Wyatt's rewriting of Alamanni above seems to constitute just a local instance of his creative imitation: a type of literary rendering that freely paraphrases, ex-

Throughout, the Italian text is quoted from Giunta’s edition (Alamanni 1532, BB8v-CC2v). All translations from the Italian are my own. The text of “Myne owne J[oh]n Poyntz” is quoted throughout from the Parker

Manuscript (Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, Parker Manuscript 168). This

copy of the poem, appearing on 200v-201v (here 2011), offers a full version that contains lines absent from other witnesses, including the incomplete version

found in Wyatt's personal volume of poetry, the Egerton Manuscript (London, British Library, MS Egerton 2711), which is traditionally the copy-text favoured by Wyatt's editors.

Chris Stamatakis

79

pands, contracts, or deviates from a loosely observed source.’ Yet, on closer

inspection, this literary nexus might reveal something not only about the

particular edition of the Italian poem that Wyatt used as his source, but

also, more broadly, about the nature of Wyatt’s poetic inspirations. In itself, the passage quoted above may seem unremarkable. It can be

readily accommodated within Wyatt's practice of loose literary imitation. Wyatt tends to preserve the spirit of his continental sources, while changing the letter, often in order to tailor classical allusions to his English audience.*

Many changes to Alamanni’s sativa have received detailed attention. One example, a few lines before the extract quoted above, is Wyatt’s replacement of Alamanni’s reference to Brutus and his fellow conspirators in the

assassination of Julius Caesar with a reference to Marcus Porcius Cato of Utica (Brutuss uncle), who committed suicide after defeat at Thapsus to

“escape out off the gate / from caesars hand” (Il. 39-40). This allusive lay-

ering invites comment, given the renowned republicanism of Alamanni, a

Florentine opponent of the Medici and an exile living in France for much of his life. Exemplifying Wyatt's free imitatio, this sort of rewriting retains

the communicative essence of his Italian original while refiguring its details, swapping one republican hero for another, perhaps because Cato's model of

“passive resistance to tyranny” befitted a poem “in praise of contemplative retreat” (Wyatt 1978, 442). What has been less fully analyzed is Wyatt's aforementioned reworking of Alamanni’s allusions to Thersites, Aeneas, and Hercules into the animal lore of crows, swans, lions, cats, and mice. When critics have discussed such changes, they have typically explained them by summoning the idea of Wyatt’s fondness for Aesopian animal fables and a homely poetics. Wyatt's transformation of Alamanni’s references into the cat-and-mouse image may specifically be related to those other modifications made by Wyatt that draw their inspiration from beast fables, proverbs, or parables. In this vein, Alamanni’s denunciation of sycophancy earlier in the same verse satire,

On Wyatt's imitative practices, see Thomson 1964, 149-271; Greene, 242-63; and Sramatakis, 56-59, 134-42. For Wyatt’s practice of making “certain references more English,” see Guss, 7. For a compelling discussion of this transformation, as well as Wyatt's invocation of Livy rather than Lucan, see Carlson, 153, 173.

80

Chris Stamatakis

EMBLEMATICA Non saprei piu ch’ a gli immortali Rendere honor con le ginocchia A’ piu ingiusti che sian, fallaci, & (Alamanni 1532, CC ly, ll.

proverbs and his facility with the lowly, colloquial capabilities of English.

Dei inchine rei 25-27)

Kenneth Muir and Patricia Thomson briefly recognize Wyatt’s recourse to colloquialisms and proverbial phrases in “Myne owne J[oh]n Poyntz”

[I could not worship, on bended knee, those who are unjust, false, and wicked more than I could the immortal gods]

becomes, in Wyatt’s adaptation, I cannot crouche nor knele nor do suche wrong to wurshippe them like God on erthe alone that are like wolfes thes sely Lambes among|.] (Wyatt, “Myne owne J[oh]n Poyntz,’ Il. 25-27)

For Patricia Thomson, Alamannis “extravagant” references and “vague general terms” are converted by Wyatt into a “concrete, fable-like description” to produce something “more homely.” Outlining the qualitative differences between Alamanni’s brand of verse epistle and Wyatt's, with particular reference to Wyatt's second verse epistle to Poyntz, Thomson elaborates: Wyatt can “quite unselfconsciously” resort to the “medieval English Aesopian manner” because he is “telling a homely tale, and this is an activity which Alamanni is too self-consciously sublime ever to indulge in” (Thomson 1964, 256, 259). This sort of reading has gained purchase in the

critical tradition, with recent corroboration offered by John Scattergood who, reviving Thomson’s phrase, remarks on Wyatt’s habit of transforming florid Italian sources into “something more homely” (74). Other readers have invoked ambient influences beyond Alamanni to explain Wyatt’s habits of translation. These literary traditions have ranged from a late medieval celebration of Aesopian beast tales, to a “deliberately anachronistic ... Chaucerian quality,’ to a humanist fondness for the proverbial compactness of Erasmuss Adagia, first published in 1500 (Wyatt 1978, 437).° Harold Mason, for instance, addressing Wyatt’s phrase, “that

cannot take a mouse as the catt cann,” notes a distant echo in Plutarch, as translated by Erasmus: “Videsne simiam? Non potest custodire domum ut canis” [Do you see the monkey? It cannot protect the house as a dog can]

(Wyatt 1969, 349). Elsewhere, Wyatt's only work to be printed during his lifetime— The Quyete of Mynde (Wyatt 1528), a translation of Plutarch’s De tranquillitate animi via Guillaume Budés Latin version (1510)—repeated-

ly employs a proverbial or aphoristic turn of phrase and may have been instrumental in cultivating Wyatt's reputation for just such a native idiom. In particular, Wyatt's Plutarchian essay strives for a “plain prose in the English tradition” and for “good native English” (Thomson 1962, 148, 155), just as Wyatt's second verse epistle to John Poyntz “tends toward the homely and proverbial” (Wyatt 1978, 437). Yet, beyond these customary, generic explanations, it may be possible to find a more precise cue for Wyatt's addition of the cat-and-mouse motif in his translation—not in a textual or verbal source or in some quality of Wyatt’s language but in an image, specifically a printer's vignette. The Sessa emblem

The inspiration for Wyatt’s cat-and-mouse analogy may be found on the title page of the Venice edition of the second volume of Alamanni’s twovolume grand oeuvre in octavo, Opere toscane. Critical tradition has long assumed that Wyatt encountered Alamanni’s text in the two-volume Lyons edition of Opere toscane issued by Sébastien Gryphe (Gryphius), the first volume appearing in 1532 (or perhaps 1531), and the second in 1533 (Alamanni 1532-33).’ A printer’s device of a flaming salamander frames each volume of this Lyons edition, some differences in the respective mottos notwithstanding (Baudrier, 8: 66, 71). The motto in the first volume reads “Nutrisco, Estinguo” [I nourish, I extinguish], and in the second “Virtute

duce, comite fortuna” [With virtue as leader, and fortune as companion].* Yet, in addition to this Lyons edition, the two volumes of Opere toscane would also have been available to Wyatt in another version, namely, the 7

The title page of the first volume gives 1532 as the date of publication, although some textual scholars have argued for 1531 (Dionisotti, 152; Rozzo, 23).

8

There are at least two states of the first volume, distinguished by foliation (*1rv, Elr and E8r) and by the wording of the title-page motto, some reading “Nu-

(279). Still other readers have sought an explanation in some quality of

Wyatt's literary language and personal idiom, in particular his penchant for 6.

For Wyatt's likely indebtedness to Erasmus, see Thomson Stamatakis, 146.

81

1964, 40, 85, 88;

trisco et Extinguo,’ some “Nutrisco, Extinguo” (Bingen, 38-39).

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83

Florentine edition of volume 1 that appeared from Bernardo Giuntas press in 1532 (Alamanni 1532), and a Venetian edition of volume 2 printed by Pietro di Nicolini da Sabbio (A. 1512-55)

ALA

MANNI AL CHRISTIA NISSIMO RE FRAN CESCO PRIMO,

for publisher Melchiorre

Sessa (A. 1505-62) in 1533 (Alamanni 1533). Alamanni’s satire to

Sertini appears in the first

volume (the Giunta edition), but it is the second volume (the da SabbioSessa edition) that is of

particular

interest

here.

This second volume contains

an

blem

as its frontispiece,

measuring

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Fig. 2. Closing device, appearing after the colophon,

in

Luigi Alamanni. Opere toscane. Alamanni 1533, T4v. (Reproduced by permission of The British Library,

London (1489.cc.67).)

x 74 mm,

showing a cat pinning down a mouse that it has secured in its jaws.’ This vignette, the typographic trademark of the Sessa family of printers who were

active in Venice throughout the sixteenth century, is framed within a border

of leaves and vines, and subscribed with the motto, “Disimilius infida societas” [The company of the dissimilar is treacherous] (fig. 1).

This title-page device is mirrored by a comparable image at the volume’s

end (measuring 73 x 85 mm). Again, this impresa depicts a cat carrying its

captured prey in its mouth and is encircled with floral borders, although in addition the emblem here features a feline or leonine grotesque, subscribed 9.

Fig.

1. Title-page

device

from

Luigi Alamanni.

Opere toscane.

(Alamanni

Reproduced by permission of The British Library, London (1489.cc.67).)

1533, Alr;

By contrast, the front of Giunta’s volume 1 contains a framed device of a Florentine iris (Aeur-de-lis) supported by two putti, with the motto “Nil candidius” [Nothing more fair], and a corresponding device appears at the end, featuring

two putti holding cornucopias and supporting another Florentine iris. The standard citation for the front device is Z647 and for the rear device Z648 (see Zappella, vol. 2). See also Ascarelli, nos. 48 and 49, and the online database commonly referred to as EDIT 16.

EE

ns

eit

84

EMBLEMATICA

by a similar motto that differs slightly in orthography, “Dissimilium infida societas” (fig. 2). Various designs of the cat-and-mouse emblem appeared in publications by the Sessa family over the course of the sixteenth century ( Vaccaro, 344-48). First used in 1501 and last used in 1600, the device appeared in almost 50 distinct iterations. Versions of the cat-and-mouse emblem were deployed, variously, by the elder Giovanni Battista Sessa and his heirs (the younger Giovanni Battista Sessa, Giovanni Bernardo Sessa, Luigi Sessa, and

Francesco Sessa) and by the elder Melchiorre Sessa and his heirs (the young-

er Melchiorre Sessa and his brothers), as well as their occasional partners (including Pietro Ravani and Barezzo Barezzi). Over time, the iconography

of the emblem became increasingly complex, as progressively more ornate frameworks were added around the image and, occasionally, an alternative motto (“Imparibus dissidii satis” [sufficient separation from the unequal}) was used. Yet throughout, the device retained the same underlying conceit of a cat with a mouse caught in its mouth. Sessa’s paratextual image may well have planted the seed of the cat-and-mouse analogy in Wyatt’s mind, both for the brief local departure from Alamanni’s text in “Myne owne J[oh] n Poyntz” noted above and perhaps also for the more sustained Aesopian narrative of “My mothers maydes”—a verse epistle that recounts at length the fable of the town mouse and the country mouse and, particularly, the latter’s plight at the hands (or paws) of a cat in an unfamiliar urban setting. As an impresa involving an enthymeme, Sessa’s device gestures toward a meaning or explanation in an indirect, compressed, and elliptical way, and it places demands on the imagination or invention of the interpreter."° The image and accompanying motto of Sessa’s feline emblem may have connoted several meanings, both to the Sessa family who deployed it as their typographic mark and to readers, like Wyatt, who encountered it in their publications. At the broadest level, the cat-and-mouse emblem allegorizes difference or disparity between two parties. The emblem collection of the Italian humanist Giulio Cesare Capaccio describes the image “del Gatto e del Topo” [of the Cat and Mouse] and its motto, “Dissimilium infida societas,” as an example of an impresa “per significar natura di cose dissimili” [signifying dissimilitude] (Capaccio, 58v; see Tung, 89). For the 10.

On the language of enthymemes and syllogisms in early modern theoretical discussions of the impresa, see Caldwell; Giordano (253-54) cites the key discussion in Francesco Caburacci’s Trattato of 1580.

Chris Stamatakis

85

Sessa family, their vignette may have functioned as a warning to, or a claim

of supremacy over, rival or inferior printers and thus have served a com-

mercial function (Vaccaro, 344; Zappella, 1: 189). The impresa may have

appealed to Wyatt because of the broader emblematic significance of cats in heraldic culture, as symbols of independence, vigilance, and dexterity

(Camajani, 584). As Beryl Rowland observes, “Secular writers, especially those concerned with emblems, saw the cat as a symbol of freedom” (52).

In his two verse epistles (above) that rely on the cat image, Wyatt may well be invoking such virtues, especially given the tacit republican tenor of his first verse epistle and its outspoken defense of intellectual and behavioral autonomy. Additionally, in view of the satiric tradition in which he is writing, Wyatt may also be recalling the cat’s emblematic associations with intrinsic or unchanging nature. Among other English writers who drew on the image, Geffrey Whitney used the cat “as Chaucer had done earlier in the Manciple’ Tale, to illustrate the maxim that one ultimately reverts to one’s nature; one cannot hope therefore to alter mankind” (Rowland, 52).

The cat’s emblematic associations with a type of nature so trenchant that it cannot be disguised or hidden—where, as Whitney puts it, “The catte, in countries kepte, where are no myse for praye, / Yet, being broughte where they doe breede, her selfe shee doth bewraye” —certainly tally closely with Wyatt’s celebration of an unchanging, integral, and ingenuous mode of behavior in his verse epistles (Whitney, Z1v)."! Textually and chronologically, there is nothing that indicates Wyatt's recourse to the two-volume Lyons edition over the separate Florence and Venice editions of Opere toscane. The text of Alamanni’s poem in the Giunta volume is virtually identical to that in the first volume of the Lyons edition,

with a handful of orthographic or accidental variants, all negligible. In their contents and arrangement, the two Lyons volumes are virtually identical to, respectively, Giunta’s edition of volume 1 (which even replicates the page breaks and pagination sequence) and the da Sabbio—Sessa edition of volume 2 (which retains the ordering and contents of the second Lyons volume

entirely, with the exception of two “sonetti”). On

these textual

grounds, then, there is no definitive evidence as to which edition of Opere 11.

Compare the motto to emblem 39, “Natura[m] furca[m] expellas rame[n] usq[ue] recurret” [You may drive out Nature with a pitchfork, yet she will ever hurry back], in Denis Lebey de Batilly’s collection (L1v-L2r), and see Horaces Epistles (1: x, 1. 24) for the motto’s source (Horace, 316-17).

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Chris Stamatakis

toscane Wyatt might have used, although Sessas cat-and-mouse impresa in the da Sabbio-Sessa edition of volume 2 invitingly suggests thar Wyatt was familiar with that version. Only tradition, it seems, has led scholars

(fl. 1512-50), the brother of Pietro di Nicolini da Sabbio, published the prose paraphrase by Pietro Aretino that would serve as the principal source for Wyatt's version of the seven penitential psalms. Beyond this recourse to da Sabbio publications, Wyatt seems to have been similarly reliant on the products of the Giunta family press. The Giunta press managed to issue only the first volume of Alamanni’s work in 1532, but was responsible for producing a more complete edition of both parts of Opere toscane in 1542 (the year of Wyatt’s death). Bernardo Giunta’s father, Philippo (A.

to assume that Wyatt encountered Alamanni’s text in the Lyons edition.

Among Wyatt's editors, only Joost Daalder notes that Opere toscane is

printed in both “Lyons and Florence, 1532” (Wyatt 1975, 242). Among literary critics, only Donald Guss appears to have ventured the possibility that Wyatt knew or used the Giunta edition from Florence (6). The Lyons

edition may well have been favored by critics thus far as Wyatt's likeliest text because of Opere toscane’ titular dedicatee—Alamanni’s patron of letters and King of France, Francis I. The flaming salamander and its Italianate motto of “Nutrisco et extinguo,” as featured on the title-page of the Lyons volumes, are closely associated with the French king, who adopted them as his badge (Vinycomb, 212). Alternatively, critics and scholars have perhaps assumed Wyatt's use of the Lyons edition due to a romantic notion of geographic coincidence, given Wyatt's diplomatic wanderings in France. For some, Wyatt's “journeyings through France” allowed him to “strengthen” the Italian influence on his literary career: both Avignon and Lyons, the site of Gryphius’s press, were “on the route home” (Thomson 1964, 67-68). One editor conjectures that Wyatt might have “acquired” the Gryphius edition of Alamanni’s work in Lyons in 1537 on his way to Valladolid in Spain (Wyatt 1978, 25). Another reader even suggests that Wyatt actually met Alamanni during his service as ambassador at the French court, yet there is no firm evidence for either of these speculations (Mason, 260).

The provenance of Wyatt’s other Italian sources sheds light on the presses with which he was most familiar and strengthens the likelihood that he knew the Sessa emblem from among his Italian holdings. In the absence of a surviving book list or library of Wyatt’s reading, scholars must rely on educated reconstruction work. Nonetheless, works from Florentine and Venetian printers (unsurprisingly perhaps) seem to rank highly. Almost certainly, Wyatt used the watershed edition of Petrarch’s songs and sonnets, containing Alessandro Vellutello’s biographical preface and extensive glosses, which hailed from the Venetian press of the da Sabbio brothers (see Petrarch; Thomson 1964, 191-96). Giovanni Antonio Nicolini da Sabbio 12.

The assumption dates back at least as far as G. F. Nott, Wyatt's earliest modern editor (Howard and Wyatt, 2: cxvi).

87

1497-1517), printed the edition of Serafino’s strambotti that Wyatt is most

likely to have used. That Wyatt used the Giunta and the da Sabbio-Sessa editions of Alamanni rather than their Lyons equivalents is suggested elsewhere by Wyatt's likely reliance on Italian, rather than French, printers. The case of Guillaume Budé's De tranquillitate et securitate animi (Wyatt's Latin source for his translation of Plutarch) offers another instance where,

as with Alamanni’s Opere toscane, rival editions were issued in both France and Italy within a few years of each other. Jason Powell has made a compelling argument for Wyatt’s use of the Rome edition (printed by Jacobus Mazochius in 1510) over the Paris edition (printed by Olivier Senant in 1505), based on the evidence of accidentals.'* These bibliographic patterns strengthen the case for Wyatt's engagement with the da Sabbio—Sessa edition of Alamanni, and with its striking feline frontispiece. Wyatt’s iconographic interests Admittedly, Wyatt may have known or drawn inspiration from other emblematic representations of trapped mice. Among the graphic compositions in this genre is the image of a mouse caught by greed (“Captivus

ob gulam” [Caught by greed]) to be found in Alciatos Emblematum liber

(1531): here, the mouse, “Regnator poenus” [King of the pantry], is de-

picted as caught in a mousetrap (Alciato, E3v). This allegorical punishment visited on the greedy mouse fits in part with the moral behind Wyatt's second verse epistle addressed to Poyntz, in which the country mouse suffers

after being lured to town by the promise of plenty. Yet in both his first and his second verse epistle to Poyntz, the mouse is trapped, explicitly, by a cat, 13.

Although the two editions are textually similar and typically differ “only in accidentals” in several instances the “1510 edition seems closer in accidentals to the printed text of The Quyete of Mynde” (Wyatt in preparation, introduction to vol. 1).

eT

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and the emblematic similarity between Wyatt's poems and the Sessa emblem is reinforced by correspondences between the verse epistles and the motto in Sessa’s impresa. The Sessa cat-and-mouse emblem leaves its trace not only in the precise poetic image of the cat catching a mouse in both Wyatt's verse epistles to Poyntz but also in the broader thematic concerns and shared vocabulary of these poems. Sessa’s vignette, depicting and apho-

rizing the dangers of treacherous company (“Disimilius infida societas”), is entirely resonant with the tenor of both “Myne owne J[oh]n Poyntz” and

“My mothers maydes.” The former poem catalogs the speaker's reasons for rejecting the company of the dissimilar, as he vows to shun the societas of “che presse off courtes” to be wary of “the frendly foo w[ith] his double face” and to walk “in lusty lees at libertie” settling for the self-appointed

Chris Stamatakis

word “infida” (“treacherous”) direct from the motto of Sessa’s emblem."

Beyond his verse epistles, Wyatt’s oeuvre repeatedly voices this distrust of treacherous company: the first of his two paternal letters exhorts his son to stay “in presens of some honist man” (this letter appearing in his Egerton Manuscript on 71r-72r, quoted here from 71r). The suggestive iconography of Sessa’s impresa and the cautionary character of its accompanying motto resonate in Wyatt’s oeuvre, in which the discourse of friendship is typically threatened by the perennial fear of false friends (Brigden, 216-41). 14. 15.

The text is quoted from the copy in Wyatt's Egerton Manuscript, appearing on 50v—52v (here 51rv). Wyatt's likeliest literary sources for chis Aesopian fable of the town and country mouse are Horace’s Sermones, 2: vi, ll. 77-117 (Horace, 216-19); William Cax-

ton’s 1484 translation of a French version of the tale (“the xii. Fable is of the two

rats,” see Caxton); and Robert Henryson’s “Taill of the Uponlandis Mous, and

the Burges Mous” in his Mora/l Fabillis (Henryson, 21-111), which Wyatt may

have encountered in manuscript.

89

If indeed Sessa’s cat-and-mouse emblems framing the da Sabbio—Sessa volume served as a prompt or fore-conceit behind Wyatt's rifacimento [reworking] of Alamanni’s poem, then they offer another instance of Wyatt's participation in an emblematic tradition, and specifically one that fuses together image and text. Wyatt has become associated, at least in Wyattian family history, with another striking impresa and motto. Journeying home through Italy from a diplomatic embassy with Sir John Russell to the papal court in 1527, Wyatt drew on the chamber wall of the inn at which he and Russell had stopped to change horses a Maze and in it a Minotaur with a Triple crowen on his it were falinge, and a botthome [spool] of thread with and broken chaines ther liinge by, and over this word tritus est et nos liberati sumus [the snare is broken and freed].'6 (G. Wyatt, 28)

company of “the muses” (Il. 3, 65, 84, 101).

Wyatt's second verse epistle to Poyntz, “My mothers maydes,” is a fable on the treacherousness of the unfamiliar: Wyatt's poem recounts how a “feld mowse,” dislocated from her accustomed rural abode, becomes a “straunger” in an alien urban territory and is finally subject to the whims of the “trayto[ur] Catt” who captures her (IL 2, 51, 66).'* That descriptive —a term without equivalent in any of Wyatt's epithet for the cat, “traitor” known literary sources for this verse epistle—may well recall the key-

eee

head bothe as certin guives Laqueus conwe have been

In addition, and with the same unambiguous anti-papal intent, there survives a “circular painting of a falling papal minotaur within a maze por-

traying exactly this story” on the reverse of a portrait of Wyatt (Brigden, 119-21; Brigden and Woolfson, 497-99). Thomas Greene has suggested

that Wyatt “debases the emblematic and visionary subtext” of his poetic

sources and “seems deliberately to have muted whatever imagistic brilliance

he found in the Canzoniere” (261, 247). Yet on the above evidence, Wyatt's engagement with emblems—sources that are both visual and verbal—sug-

gests that image and text, impresa and motto, may have formed a more potent combination for him than has previously been recognized. Besides this anecdotal pairing of the visual and the verbal in the minotaur emblem, and besides the possible influence of Sessas cat-and-mouse

device on Wyatt’s verse epistles, image and text often accompany each

other in Wyatt's surviving corpus. The interplay of verbal and visual seems not only to have been cultivated actively by Wyatt himselfin his own ar-

tistic productions but also to have been exploited in the transmission of

his work and reception of his legacy. Wyatt's letter-sealing ring, embossed

with a “V” for “Viatus” (Wyatt's Latinized name) and a leaf of ivy that is richly symbolic of poetic fame, has already been well documented as a visual representation of Wyatt as poet (Powell). Equally well known is the 16.

The account is by Wyatt's grandson, George Wyatt, as recorded in family papers collected between ca. 1590 and 1624.

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Chris Stamatakis

woodcut roundel portrait of Wyatt, which appears in elegies written for

in English literary culture of the sixteenth century." Indeed, Wyatt's refiguring of a typographic impresa from the da Sabbio-Sessa edition into a

him by both John Leland and Henry Howard, the Earl of Surrey (Brigden, 3-9). This woodcut portrait miniature of Wyatt, apparently deriving from

Hans Holbein the Younger, is noteworthy in itself, as the first such por-

trait of a poet to be printed in England. More recently, Susan Brigden has

considered the possible connections between Wyatt and a lozenge, attrib-

uted to Hans Holbein the Younger, of a galloping horseman, subscribed

with a pseudo-Petrarchan motto, “E Cosi Desio Me Mena” [And so desire

carries me on] (Brigden, 556, citing both Foister, 61, and Fredericksen). Elsewhere, she has examined a pictogram of a heart that contains within it what seems to resemble a face, substituting the word “heart,” in a copy of Wyatt's rondeau beginning “What no perde” to be found in the Devonshire Manuscript that passed within elite circles at Henry VIII's

verbal, proverbial form in his poetry might even be likened to a very literal instance of the early modern figure of enargeia—that ideal of verbal vividness which creates or recreates an arresting sight or image through words." Works Cited

Alamanni, Luigi. Opere toscane di Luigi Alamanni al Christianissimo ré Francesco Primo. Florence: Bernardo Giunta senior, 9 July 1532. . Opere toscane di Luigi Alamanni al Christianissimo rè Francesco Primo. Lyons: Sébastien Gryphe, 1532-33. . Opere toscane di Luigi Alamanni al Christianissimo rè Francesco Primo. Venice: Pietro di Nicolini da Sabbio for M. Marchio Sessa, 1533.

court (Brigden, 19).!” Beyond their implications for Wyatt's own oeuvre or for his interest in

emblems, such examples also attest to the permeable boundary between the visual and the verbal in Henrician poetic culture, where the realms of text and visual representation readily seep into each other. In the nascent literary theory of Tudor England, visual and verbal imaginations are often in close proximity to one another. Indeed, English literary culture in the sixteenth century could be said to liken a “theory of poetry” to a “theory of how images are translated by words from the imagination of the author to the imagination of the reader” (Alexander, 350). Dorigen Caldwell has already discussed in meticulous detail the role of Italian imprese in the debate or “paragone between poetry and painting” that suggested the “ability to conjure up images through words alone.” Among other examples, Girolamo Bargagli’s Dialogo de giuochi (1572) is quoted, as when the principal interlocutor in the dialogue, Sodo, touches upon the “analogy between poetry and imprese” (Caldwell, 165-66). Given these debates in Cinquecento Italy, especially in the academies, over the origins, theory, and applications of the impresa and its liminal position between visual, heraldic culture and literary, poetic traditions, Wyatt's possible engagement with Sessa's vignette perhaps suggests a similar cross-fertilization between poetry and emblems

Alciato, Andrea. Emblematum liber. Augsburg, 28 February 1531. Alexander, Gavin. “Seeing through Words in Theories of Poetry: Sidney, Puttenham, Lodge.” In A Companion to Tudor Literature, ed. Kent Cartwright. Oxford, 2010. Pp. 350-63. Aretino, Pietro. J sette salmi della penitentia di Dauid. Venice: Francesco Marcolini for Gioann’Antonio de Nicolini da Sabio, 1534. Ascarelli, Fernanda. La Tipografia Cinquecentina Italiana. Florence, 1953.

Bargagli, Girolamo. Dialogo de giuochi . . . del Materiale Intronato. Siena, 1572.

Bath, Michael. Speaking Pictures: English Emblem Books and Renaissance Culture. London, 1994.

Baudrier, Henri-Louis. Bibliographie Lyonnaise. Recherches sur les Imprimeurs, Libraires, Relieurs et Fondeurs de Lettres a Lyon au XVIe Siécle. 13 vols. Paris, 1965. 18.

19. 17.

The pictogram appears in the Devonshire Manuscript (London, British Library, MS Additional 17492) on 19r.

91

For a concise discussion of the émpresas development in sixteenth-century Italy and the academies’ debates over its significations and applications, see Caldwell, chaps. 1 and 3. The centrality of exargeia in Tudor literary theory (Alexander, 353) and the early modern associations between enargeia and ut pictura theories (Bath, 54-55) have been extensively discussed in the critical canon.

ΜΕΘ DT τ,

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Bingen, Nicole. Philausone (1510-1660): Répertoire des ouvrages en langue italienne publiés dans les pays de langue frangaise de 1500 a 1660. Geneva, 1994. Brigden, Susan. Thomas Wyatt: The Hearts Forest. London, 2012. Susan, and Jonathan Woolfson. “Thomas Renaissance Quarterly 58 (2005): 464-511.

Brigden, Budé,

Guillaume. Praeclarissima: et bonis Plutarchi Cheronei. Paris, 1505.

institutis

Wyatt

in

Italy.”

accémodatissima

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War and Antiwar Discourse

in Alciatos Book of Emblems

YONA PINSON Tel Aviv University

While thology Andrea on the

living in Milan, engaged and Aristophanes and in Alciato witnessed French city in 1523 and again in

in translating from the Greek Anthe composition of his Emblemata, and Habsburgian military assaults 1526. In view of Alciato’s personal

experience of the ravages of war, this study examines specific antiwar

motifs in his emblems, paying particular attention to the influence of Erasmus'’s pacifist attitude on him. Alciato’s call for peace became imbued with political significance once it was addressed directly to Maximilian, Duke of Milan, who was involved in the fiercest conflicts in Italy between the French court and the Habsburg court. The moral measure of Alciato’s pacifist discourse gained even greater significance

when the emblems were grouped within the context of thematic classifications and virtues and vices, a framework introduced by Rouille in the 1549 French and 1550 Latin editions of the Emblemata.

EX BELLO PAX - Let weapons lie far off; let it be right to embark on war only when you cannot in any other way enjoy the art of peace

hile living in Milan, where he was engaged in translating from

the Greek Anthology and Aristophanes and in the composition of his Emblemata, Andrea Alciato witnessed French and

97 Emblematica, Volume 21. Copyright © 2014 by AMS Press, Inc, All rights reserved,

ESE ee LSOST

98

G

SEE

ANS

a

atic creation as “un complément

pe

ingénieux aux Adages érasmiens”

[an in-

antiwar sentiments.

Erasmus ethical stance was unquestionably motivated by his firm political outlook, but was also shaped by Christian moral and spiritual values. This great humanist believed, in light of these principles, that a genuine Christian education would help most of all to restrain human violence and spare many wars, a view he propounded in Education of a Christian Prince (Basel, 1516), While this manual belongs to a long tradition of advisory

ee

st Re nr

second part adopted the medieval genre of a moral mirror (Tracy 1978, 17-18).

1978, 62-63 and 66). Erasmus paid tribute to the Greek rhetorician Isocrates (436-338 B.C.), who had called on Sparta to establish concord in Greece a recognizing the right of Athens to share hegemony with Sparta (Cackwell).Th Panegyricus may reflect Erasmus’s attitude toward the real conflicts between ae Habsburgs and the Guelders, which he viewed as vain bloodshed for territory

moralistic antiwar position was first crystallized in his 1504 Panegyricus

The first part of the Panegyric for Archduke Philip of Austria (1504; rpt. 1516),

was a glorification of the prince in the antique tradition of books of conduct; the

99

The Panegyricus was presented to Philip the Fair during the ceremony in which the Estates of Brabant welcomed the prince to the ducal court in Brussels (Tracy

Erasmus was a lifelong pacifist who abhorred violence and warfare. His

tions of the Emblemata from 1531 up to Petro Paulo Tozzi’s 1621 Padua edition (Alciato 1621), which is considered to be the definitive edition.

ewe

In his brig and letters, Erasmus lamented that many a nation had been thrust into war by a prince’s vain quest for glory (Tracy 1996, 45-46). He went even further in his advocacy against warfare in his moral guidebook intended for young prince Charles, stating that since wars were the source of too many evils, it was preferable for the pious Christian prince to accept an unjust peace rather than to enter into a justifiable war (Tracy 1978, 20).*

for Prince Charles, who, in 1516, became

In the text of the first edition of the Emblematum liber published in Augsburg in 1531 (Alciato 1531), Alciato may have been alluding to actual political events in the emblem titled “Albutii ad D. Alciacum suadens, ut de tumultibus Italicis se subducat, ἃς in Gallia profiteatur” [Sent by Albutius co Alciato, urging him to withdraw from the Italian troubles and take up a teaching post in France], emblematized through the metaphoric image of a tree from Persia whose fruits improved once it was transplanted. This sable appeared in the various edi-

mt

and 102-3; Dealy).

the Habsburg Emperor Charles V—was shaped in light of the philosophia Christi (Tracy 1996, 104), which he had outlined earlier in his Handbook of a Christian Soldier (1501-2). intended for Archduke Philip the Fair? In its pages, Erasmus attempted

eee

to persuade Philip that true glory could be attained through peaceful and virtuous deeds and not through conquest in battle. He pleaded for the Archduke to avoid war and vain shedding of blood, pointing out that pietas should forever be above patria (Tracy 1978, 20).A similar outlook echoed in Erasmus’s other writings, notably the above-mentioned Education of a Christian Prince, the Querela pacis (1517) addressed to Philip of Burgundy the Bishop of Utrecht, and the Adagia (1515 and 1517) which comprised fervent pleas for peace. In his didactic manual intended for Charles, he argued that a prince “will never be more hesitant or more circumspect than in starting war; other actions have their different advantages, but war always brings ses the wreck of everything chat is good” (Erasmus 1997a, viii-ix

or conduct literature extending from Plato’s Republic to more contemporary examples such as Machiavelli’s Zhe Prince and Thomas More's Utopia, Erasmuss manual—intended

IT

Yona Pinson

genious complement to Erasmuss Adages] (375), I will pay particular attention to Erasmus pacifist attitude in my analysis of Alciato’s emblematic

i

Nn

EMBLEMATICA

Habsburgian military assaults on the city in 1523 and again in 1526. He was also the victim of a violent home invasion (Callahan 1985-87).! In view of Alciato’s personal experience of the ravages of war, this study will examine specific antiwar motifs in his emblems. Alciato’s friendship with and admiration for Erasmus and the influence of his ideas on the Italian humanist were noted by Virginia WoodsCallahan in her many studies of Alciato’s Emblemata during the 1970s (Callahan 1973; 1979). Considering as well Augustin Renaudet’s remark about Alciato’s emblem-

1.

D

(Tracy 1996, 21); for the text, see Erasmus 1997b.

3,

4,

See “Dulce bellum inexpertis” {War is sweet to those who have not experienced

it,] discussion below, 108 and n. 26; see also his antiwar ironic adage “Scarabaeus

aquilam quaerit” [A dung-beetle is hunting an eagle] (Erasmus 2005, 178-215, see discussion below, 112); and “Spartam nactus es, hanc orna” [You have obtained Sparta; do your best for her], see discussion below, 122 and n. 53. From Herding. In 1530, just before the publication of the first edition of Alciato's Emblemata, Erasmus vigorously expressed his objection to war, even against the Turks, in the form of a letter titled “A Valued Discussion on War against the Turks” dedicated to the jurist John Rinck, and which was issued four times in the same year in Basel, Cologne, Paris, and Vienna. In this essay—in the guise of an epistle—Erasmus warned against the “evils and folly of waging wars against the Turks on flimsy pretexts” (Erasmus 1968, 8-9). Nonetheless, that same year Emperor Charles V raised his armies against the Turks.

EMBLEMATICA

100 FOEDERA

ITALORVM,

Yona Pinson

Erasmus called for peace as a & 3

true disciple of Christ.” He employed a sermonic tone when he stated that on the Day of

Judgment the Christian prince should render an account of ev-

ery last drop of human blood shed (Tracy

“Hane cytharam a lembisque forma halieutica fertur Vendicat & propriam mufa latina fibi.

Accipe Dux,placeat noftrichoc nbitemporemunus

focijs fœdera intre paras. τα cum a Quo nou e homini τοῦ tendere chordas » e& nifi docto Difficil

Vnaq;fi fucrit non bene tenta fides. wih

i

Fig, 1. Andrea Alciato, Emblematum liber (Augs-

burg, 28 February 1531), A2v, “Foedera Italorum.’” (Courtesy of Glasgow University Library.

next emblem, called “Foedera Italorum” [Italian alliances] in 1531 (fig. 1),

expressed hope for a good outcome of the strategic alliances the Duke was pursuing at that time and the maintaining of continued affection and concord with other leaders:

1978, 46). In the

Accipe Dux, placeat nostrum hoc tibi tempore munus,

Quo nova cum sociis foedera inire paras. Difficile est, nisi docto homini tot tendere chordas, Unaque si fuerit non bene tenta fides. (Alciato 1531, A2v)

of a Christian Prince, he a went so

“[i]t was

the duty of preachers to have up-of savored. completely the ideas

[Receive it [the lute, emblem of harmony and concord] O Duke. May this offering of mine be pleasing to you at this moment when you are preparing to enter into fresh agreements with your allies [the leaders of Italy].]’

Ν

è

discord from the hearts of common

255).

people” This i

(Erasmus

1968,

moralistic-religious À

pattern is echoed in Querela Y) : 5 : \ Pacis (1517), where he warns the prince that he would be punished by a

vengeful God for vain wars and waste of human life (Tracy 1978, 64-65).° Alciato’s concise emblematic discourse may be viewed as a new model of a “mirror for princes,” one that drew inspiration from the ethical political weave Erasmus promoted in his princely moral guidebooks (Callahan 1979, 183; 190-92). The prototype of Emblematum liber, published by Heinrich Steyner in Augsburg on 28 February 1531, opened with the emblematic heraldic insignia of the Duchy of Milan. In the first authorized 5.

edition published by Chrestien Wechel in Paris in 1534, titled Emblematum libellus, the emblem was clearly and intentionally dedicated to “The most illustrious Maximilian, Duke of Milan” (Alciato 1534). The epigram of the

concluding chapter of Education

far as to declare that

Erasmus reminded the prince that David was not allowed to build the Temple

because he was a warrior and a man of blood; God then chose the peaceful Sol-

omon for this task, stating, “We have the true Solomon, Christ, the Lover of

In this plea, Alciato ingeniously elaborated the metaphoric imagery of a tuned lute signifying harmony and concord, which in the hands of the skilled ruler will bring concord and peace, but should even one string be “out of tune or broken . .. all the music of the instrument is lost” (“Ruptave ... perit omnis gratia conchae, / Illaeque praecellens cantus ineptus erit”) and discord will follow. In another emblem, Alciato appealed to the ruler to conduct himself

with moderation and restraint through the allegorical notion of festina lente [make haste slowly], which he likely knew from a hieroglyph that ap-

peared in Francesco Colonnas Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, first published in Venice in 1499 (69), and from Erasmus’s moralization of the adage (Erasmus

Peace” (Erasmus 1968, 107-8).

6.

tions dating from the late fifteenth century (it was translated into Middle Dutch

later in the fifteenth century as Des Connix Summe, appearing at Delft in 1478

powerful sovereigns. For his medieval ethical inspirations, see Erasmus 1968, chap. 5: “The Perfect Prince from the Sixth Century to the Sixteenth Century.”

1991, 5-17, adage

1001).$ The emblem of a dolphin entwined

In the 1549 Lyons edition in French (Alciato 1549, 30) and the 1550 Latin edition (Alciato 1550, 16), the emblematic lute, symbol of concord and alliance, figures in the section on virtues, exemplifying the cardinal virtue Fides [Faith]. In the Padua edition of 1621, this emblem (Alciato 1621, 60) is dedicated to Duke Maximilian (“Ad Maximilianum Mediolani Ducem”). Unless otherwise indicated, all translations from Alciatos Latin will be as they appear on the Glasgow Emblem Project web site (see the list of works cited for links to specific editions); translations from French sources are my own unless otherwise noted.

The profound religious conviction at the base of Erasmus’s antiwar discourse set in the framework of a moralistic manual for a Christian prince demonstrates many affinities with Friar Laurent’s Somme le Roi (1279), with which Erasmus may have been familiar either in its original form or through various Middle Dutch adaptaand 1482, in Hasselt and Utrecht in 1481, and at Haarlem in 1484). Friar Laurent defined war as one of the most vicious vices, condemning especially wars berween

101

8.

In his commentary, Erasmus referred τὸ the enigmatic hieroglyph on a coin of

Vespasian, in relation to ancient texts (Erasmus

1991, 6 and 9). The starting

102

EMBLEMATICA around

Yona Pinson an

anchor,

and in the 1531 Emblematum liber, follows a vertical axis in

ESS

SSS

the emblem’s pictura in the 1534

S y

Y

SL Fig.

(Paris,

2.

Ur

Andrea

1534),

Alciato,

BSr,

Emblematum

“Princeps

lumitatem procurans.” University Library.)

À

; χα

subditorum

(Courtesy

of

inco-

Glasgow

to Erasmus’s remarks and directed the message of his emblem to

the prince by pointedly addressing him to care for the safety of his subjects in the motto:

Emblematum libellus (fig. 2). Eramus related the pictorial imagery of festina lente to the exemplary ruler. The ancients considered the dolphin the “Lord of the fishes;” hailed for its good

“Princeps subditorum incolumitatem procurans” | The Prince procuring the safety of his subjects]. He underscored this plea

human beings,!° and the anchor

appropriate example for kings. This emblem was included in the 1549 and 1550 Lyons editions, in French and Latin, respectively, in the section titled “The Ruler,” as an example intended to guide the “good prince.” In the emblems denouncing warfare, Alciato related wrath to bellicosity, a linkage that suggests some affinities with late medieval and early modern concepts. In late medieval and Renaissance discourse, warfare was related to the deadly sin of Iva [wrath] and was often represented by the

nature and compassion toward

libellus

Alciato was clearly attentive

arranged

horizontally in the woodcut image in the Hypnerotomachia,

103

indicated slowness and restraint. Together

these

symbols

illus-

trated the principle “Ever hasten

slowly,’ which characterized the virtuous ruler.!! In his interpretive discourse of the emblematic image of dolphin and anchor, Erasmus advocated balanced and prudent conduct in general but concluded by invoking the famous emperors Augustus Caesar and Titus Vespasian, who had adopted the motto “make haste slowly” as their respective devices (Erasmus 1991, 17).

in his didactic commentary

emphasizing

12.

retained by his family after his death (it figures as well on the title page of Em-

Quoting Pliny the Elder, Natural History, 9.8.

11.

Ernst Gombrich, referring to the emblematical representation of festina lente, stresses the importance of visualization for the receivers of the hieroglyphs and emblems: “It was not what these images said that made them important but the

fishes (Halieutica).

fact that what was said was ‘represented”” (173).

Fig. 3. Andrea

Alciato,

Emblematum

libellus

(Venice, 1546), D3r, “Furor, et rabies.” (Courtesy

° Glasgow University Library.)

See Alciato 1549, 174; 1550, 156. Both the 1549 French translation and the 1550 Latin edition have the emblems divided into thematic sections. The intention is clearly stated in the preface ascribed to the editor Rouille: “Ordonnez en

aux derniers Emblemes” [Organized into commonplaces, with brief expositions, and new figures appropriate to the latest emblems] (Alciato 1549, 1). It was repeated in the Extraict du Privilege du Roy: “[O}rdonnéz par tiltres generaulx & lieux communs, pour plus facile intelligence” [Organized by general titles and commonplaces, for easier comprehension] (ibid., 2); see also Claudie Balavoine. Alison Saunders attributes the classification of the emblems to Barthélemy Aneau (Saunders 1988, 203). According to Balavoine (15-16), Aneau consulted with and received Alciato’s approval for his classifications and annotations. It is worth noting that in Aneau’s dedication addressed to the young Prince Jacque Comte @Arran in the 1549 French version, the author deliberately declares the didactic

blematum libellus, published by the Aldus family in 1546). Marin Davis (39-40 and 55-59) discusses the meaning of Colonna’s hieroglyph and the intellectual friendship between Erasmus and Aldus.

10.

by

“dolphin

lieux communs, / avec briefves expositions, & Figures / nouvelles appropriées /

colleague, the Venetian publisher and humanist Aldus Manutius, who published the 1508 edition of Erasmus’s Adages. Aldus was familiar with the emblematic image from the hieroglyph in Colonnas Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, which he had published in 1499. Soon after, he adopted the image as his device and it was

See Erasmus 1991, 8 and n. 27, quoting Oppian’s second book on the nature of

the

that cares for man” should be an

point for his discussion of its meaning was the device adopted by his friend and

9.

that

intention of the French annotated version for the instruction of the young prince:

“Apres pour vous instruire de bonnes sentences, & vertueux exemples” (Then, for your instruction, good sayings and virtuous examples] (Alciato 1549, 4). 13.

See Pinson, “Images of War”; Pieter Bruegel the Elder depicts Ira as a battlefield;

see the eponymous engraving by Pieter van der Heyden.

104

EMBLEMATICA

emblematic lion, * an image Alciato reproduced in his antiwar discourse. For example, the lion figures prominently in the emblem “Furor, et rabies” [Fury and rage]:

Yona Pinson

volving the tail—for the emblem devoted specifically to the vice of Jra in the 1546 edition of Emblematum libellus: Alcaeam veteres caudam dixére Leonis qua stimulante iras concipit ille gravis Lutea cùm surgit bilis, crudescit & atro, felle dolor furias excitat indomitas. (Alciato 1550, 71)

Ora gerit clypeus rabio si picta leonis Et scriptum in summo margine carmen habet Hic hominum est terror, cuius possessor Atrida Talia magnanimus signa Agamenno tulit. (Alciato 1550, 64) [This shield bears the painted face of a raging lion, and inscribed upon the upper margin has a verse: “This is the terror of man, and the son of Arteus is its possessor. Haughty Agamemnon bore this symbolic figure.)

105

[ The ancients called the lion’s tail a/cea, for under stimulus he takes on

dreadful fury. When the yellow bile rises and his temper grows savage with the black gall, the tail incites his indomitable rage. "ὃ

1549 and 1550),!f where it was accompanied by a woodcut illustration depicting King Agamemnon as a warrior, his shield decorated with a rampant

In adopting the metaphorical image of the lion, Alciato and the various painter-engravers who illustrated these emblems likely were aware of the medieval and late medieval emblematic leonine imagery associated with fury and bellicosity. In the popular late fifteenth-century work, Le grant kalendrier et compost des Bergiers (Guégan, fol. F xli),!? the choleric temperament—personified by an angry and intemperate man hastily pulling his sword from its hilt—was accompanied by an emblematic lion symbolizing

14.

18.

This emblem was included for the first time in the 1546 Venetian edition

of Alciato published by Aldus, with the pictura a shield bearing the head of a roaring lion (fig. 3). The emblem next appeared in the 1549 and 1550 versions of Alciato’s Emblemata published by Guillaume Rouille (Alciato

lion (fig. 4).7 Alciato drew on another leonine metaphor—this time inFriar Laurent conceived warfare as the deadly sin of Jva, which he designated by the emblematic lion (Laurent d’Orleans). Laurent imbued the lion’s head with

even more negative meaning, including cruelty and ferocity (114). Hieronymus

the Tabletop of Deadly Sins and the Last Things (ca. 1500 or later, Madrid, Museo

Nacional del Prado), where the scene of brawling peasants takes place in front of an inn under the sign of the “golden lion.” It is worth noting that Erasmus refers briefly τὸ the metaphoric image of a fiercely powerful lion in the adage “Leonem stimulas” [You are goading the lion]: “This applies to people who provoke and goad someone powerful and fierce to their own destruction” (1982, 106, 1.1.61).

leonine image of ferocity in his 1549 translation of Alciato (86). The text stresses

the lion’s pride, strength, and ferocity: “Du fier Lyon la queué est dicte alice [The

The image in the 1546 Aldine edition appears as a tightly framed close-up, whereas in the later editions, the emblematic image is embedded as a detail

Greek word ἀλκαία was supposedly derived from ἀλκή “strength” / D’ond il se bat, quand il est courroucé / Quand la cholere, & le fiel amer monte / Fureur

within a more complex scene. As it seems, both Aldus and Alciato were aware

of Erasmus’ discourse concerning the bellicosity of the tyrannical lion, king of

s'esmeut que raison point ne dompte / Ire faict oublyer raison, & ainsi transmue

l'homme / en beste furieuse qui se nuyct à elle mesme” [The fierce lion’s tail is called alikè, which he thrashes, when he is angered; when choler and bitter bile mount up, fury is moved, chat reason cannot conquer; ire makes us forget rea-

beasts, a characterization understood by rulers and warlords, “who emblazoned on their noble shields lions”; see Erasmus 2005, 197.

16.

17.

Τῆς Latin version of Alciato published by Rouille in Lyons in 1550 is the last edition authorized by che author, as we learn from the title: Emblemata D. Al-

ciati, denuo ab ipso Autore recognita (fol. Alr). A new set of woodcuts was added to the 1549 and 1550 Lyons editions of the Emblemata, attributed to Pierre Eskreich (known as Vase). For a comparative study of the French translations of 1536, 1549, and 1584, see Saunders 1990.

it, the

animal provokes in himself great anger. When the yellow bile arises, and when the pain is aggravated by black gall, uncontrollable fury is awakened.” The symbolic meaning of the lion’s tail derives from ancient sources: “The Etymologicum Magnum, an ancient Greek lexicon, defines ἀλκαία as “properly the tail of the lion, because it urges him on to strength” (for the Greek, see Sylburgius, 60). Pliny (8.16.49), describes how the lion’s tail “lashes with increasing fury and spurs him on” (Alciaro 1550, emblem “Ira,” n. 1). Aneau comments on the

Bosch alludes to the lion’s symbolic meaning in the representation of Wrath in

15.

Moffitt’s translation of this emblem seems to be inaccurate (see Alciato 2004,

82): “The ancients called the lion’s tail Mars-like; whipping himself with

son, and thus transmutes man into a furious beast that harms itself]. The concise

19.

image in the Venice edition became an elaborate landscape scene with a lion hunt in the later Lyons editions from 1549 and 1550. An image of the relevant page may be found at http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148 /btv1b86095054/F141.image.r=calendrier%20compost.

EMBLEMATICA rage, as the commentary

notes:

he is hasty, noisy and tends to engage in battle.” The flames engulfing the personification of the choleric temperament were elaborated in sixteenth-century emblematic imagery, where they signified rage and combat. It is worth noting that, in the im-

age “Der Zorn” [Wrath] from

the woodcut series of the Seven

Deadly Sins (ca. 1510),*' Hans Enl'efcu eft vng Lyon en fureur. Autour efcript, Des hommes la terreur, Armes iadis telles aucc |! Anigme Agamennon portale magnanime, Fig. 4. Andrea Alciato, Emblemes (Lyons, 1549), Εϑν, “Fureur & rage.” (Courtesy of Glasgow Uni-

versity Library.)

Burgkmair related the leonine metaphor to the rage of the furious

warrior.

vice,

a

furious

The

personified

hideous-faced

warrior (his helmet fashioned like the head of a roaring lion)

holding a large sword, is accompanied by a roaring lion surrounded by flames. Burgkmair arranged the lion's tail to curl around the ferocious warrior’s leg, suggesting that he may also

107

have been familiar with the ancient notion that the lion’s tail incites rage, the motif that Alciato isolated in his emblem devoted to Iva.” As already noted, Alciato fixed the leonine metaphor onto Agamemnon’s shield in the emblem “Furor, et rabies” (fig. 4). The illustration for this emblem in Rouille’s editions of the Emblemata, where it is included in the section labeled Follie or Stultitia, effectively connects the lion’s rage with the viciousness of military conflict following the late medieval and early modern sources.” King Agamemnon, personifying fury and rage**—a sword in one hand, a shield decorated with the emblematic rampant lion in the other— stands in front of his royal encampment, pictured on the right and a burning city on the left, the latter illustrating war’s devastating outcome. Barthélemy Aneau’s additional commentary on Alciato’s text in the 1549 French edition stressed the warrior’s brutality embodied by the lion on his shield: “Ici sont notez les cruelz gens de guerre: qui leur furieuse & enragée cruaulté tesmoignent par les cruelles bestes, & divises blasonnées en leurs escuz.” [Here are designated the cruel warriors: their mad cruelty is exemplified through the cruel beasts and devices emblazoned on their shields]”

22. [Ὁ

Fureur , rage.

Yona Pinson

u

106

Lam grateful to my colleague Sharon Assaf for sharing her insights regarding this image with me. Alciatos emblem joins the medieval meaning of the lion symbolizing uncon-

trolled rage related to warfare (see above, n. 14) with the portrayal of the sav-

agely choleric Agamemnon from Homer's Iliad (1, 102-5): “And among them

uprose the warrior, son of Atreus, wide-ruling Agamemnon, sore and vexed; and

with rage in his black heart wholly filled, and his eyes were like blazing fire.”

20.

“A vin de lyon, c'est a dire ... veule canser, noiser et batre. . . ” (Guégan, fol.

24.

F xli). It seems that the author of this popular work hints at the saying: “être en vin de lion,” referring to a quarrelsome irritated person. The choleric temperament was traditionally related to fire and accompanied by a lion as its at-

tribute. The personified choleric temperament was often represented in fifteenth

mus 1991, 4). Erasmus conceived the quarrel between Agamemnon and Achilles

century northern common woodcuts as a furious warrior pulling out his sword and ready to fight. This traditional imagery was adopted and elaborated in the seventeenth century, as in Cesare Ripa’s emblematic Zconologia (1603, 74). These features were elaborated in a preparatory drawing of the Four Temperaments

over Helen of Troy, referred to by Erasmus as “a barbarian girl,” and Achilles’s rage, as signs of stupidity and folly (see Tracy 1978, 37). Nonetheless, in the 1515 version of the adage “A dung-beetle hunting an eagle” (Erasmus 2005, 184, and n. 28, adage 2601), Erasmus compared the hasty tyrannical eagle, the “king of the birds,” to the king and tyrant Agamemnon, qualified by Homer as the “people devouring king” (J/iad, 1.231).

(intended for the Grande Comande) by Charles Le Brun (1672, Palace of Versailles), where the choleric is depicted as a furious warrior waving his sword, ac-

21.

companied by the customary emblematic lion and blazing flames. This image may be found ar herp://www.britishmuseum.org/research

/collection_online/collection_object_details.aspx ?objectId= 143637 0&partld =1&searchTexr=PPA64064+ &page=1.

Iris noteworthy chat in the first chapter of the Jdiad, Homer stresses Achilles’s rage and fury against Agamemnon. See the //iad 1.1 and 190-94. Nonetheless, for the emblem of anger and rage, Alciato chose to describe the arrogant warlord King Agamemnon as the image of these vices. This view contrasts with Erasmus’s commentary on the adage “Festina lente,” where he praised Agamemnon’ restraint and moderation as opposed to Achilles’s hastiness and ferocity (see Eras-

25.

Aneaus commentary curiously echoes a passage from Erasmus’s antiwar discourse in his commentary on the adage about the endless hostility between the dung beetle and the eagle (Erasmus 2005, 197) compared to the perilous tyrant

108

EMBLEMATICA

CXXX

Furox aa

ἴσο

πιὰ

Yona Pinson The bestial conduct of

230 ῥυτὰ θεν

asprietus

aves i persenh fat: fabister anit

those engaged in warring, traditionally conceived in analogy with the cruel-

est

and

in

Aneau’s

the

bears

fiercest

beast—

lion—emphasized commentary,

comparison

Erasmuss “Dulce

with

antiwar

adage

bellum

inexper-

107-41).% For the goddess

Erasmus, of war

tis” (Mann Phillips 1967, Bellona

connoted

fury

and the infernal regions: “Armed with innumerable snakes, she winds her hellish horn; Bellona cracks Fig. 5. Cesare Ripa, Jconologia (Augsburg, 1758-60), p. 130, “Furor.” (Courtesy of Dover Publications, Inc.)

her furious whip; wicked Rage, breaking all bonds.” He

further

stressed

the

bestial aspect of warfare,

commenting on the meaning of the word bellum [war], “derived from bellua, a beast, because it is the action of beasts, not men, to come together to destroy each other” (emphasis added). Nonetheless, according to Erasmus, once engaged in war, men are

more savage and brutish than the fiercest beast, since even “fierce lions are not fighting each other ... but there is no wild beast more harmful to man than man” (Mann Phillips 1967, 111).

26.

lion. Erasmus ironically states, “This seems to have been understood by those who emblazoned [on] their noble shields lions with jaws agape and claws spread to catch their pray” (my translation). The adage was also published as a separate essay in Basel by Johan Froben in 1517 (Mann Phillips 1967, 99); according to Lester K. Born (Erasmus 1968, 7), the essay was an expansion of a letter originally addressed to Antoine de Berghe, abbot of Saint-Bertin, in March 1504, and was later included in the 1515 edition of the Adages. See also Tracy 1996, 74; Erasmus 1997a, 103 and n. 184.

Analogical

are found

in the

features

figure

109

=

=

of Bellona in Vincenzo Cartari’s Imagini de gli Dei delli Antichi, an im-

portant and influential Renaissance mythograph-

ic text conceived as an iconographical-emblem-

atical

guidebook

Greco-Roman

of the panthe-

on. Bellona, the goddess of war, was depicted as a dynamic female-warrior

waving a large sword and holding a flaming torch, i

3

following

À

the personified

image ofwrath crystallized

SN LE =

=

=

-

Ξ - ES

SS.

3

¥

— —

“-

ὡς

Z) 2

Gp

= -» ——

s

D,

_ 2

==.

Fig. 6. Cesare Ripa, Tconologia (Rome, 1603), p. 484, “Terror.” (Courtesy of Dover Publications, Inc.)

in northern art (see nn. 19, 21, 48, and fig. 12). The roundel in front of Bellona contains her metaphori-

cal insignia: a pillar topped with a helmet, a large arrow, and a shield decorated with the head of a roaring lion. The motto relates Bellona with Mars, the god of war; in the commentary, the goddess of war is manifestly associated with rage and ferocity, followed by distress, massacre, and ruin (motifs that were adopted and elaborated in turn by Cesare Ripa in his iconographical guidebook intended for artists). Cesare Ripa drew from Alciato’s emblem in his description of Fury and Rage in his Iconologia, a debt he clearly acknowledged in the epigrammatic text. Ripa portrayed the personification as a proud, angry-looking man with reddish face dressed in armor and standing in a menacing pose, carrying a sword in his right hand and in his left a shield decorated with the figure of a lion, “as described by Alciato” (Ripa 1603, 177). In the 1758-60 Hertel edition of Ripa, Rage is portrayed as a furious warrior dressed in armor striding forward while waving a large sword and grasping a shield decorated with a 27.

The text was published ca. 1500; Cartari’s first illustrated edition was published by G. Ziletti in Venice in 1571. The woodcut illustrations were attributed to Bolognino Zaltieri. I refer to the later 1615 edition (324-26).

A

EE

DR A

σι

τ

RR

ENES

ER

1E

ee

EMBLEMATICA

Yona Pinson

lion (fig. 5), which according to

the adapted commentary, “kills its own cub in an uncontrolled mad rage” (Ripa 1971, 130). Ripa further elaborated the lion symbolism in his emblem depicting Terror, where he described personified Terror as a hybrid human with a lion’s head meant to designate both terror and vio-

who would silence the voice of the truth-seeker (philosopher) who warns

against vain bloodshed. The epigram alludes to the murder of Cicero (43 B.C.) at Marc Antony’s behest, and the latter’s vain pride in the deed, which he exhibited by tethering lions to his triumphal chariot. According to the epigram, by this act Marc Antony intended to show his own martial force: Romanum postquam eloquium, Cicerone perempto

Perdiderat patria [=patriae] pestis acerba suae

Inscendit currus victor vinxitque leones Compulit & durum colla subire iugum

Magnanimos cessisse suis Antonius armis

Ambage hac cupiens significare duces.

Alciato employed the metaphoric image of the lion to

: ee. criticize tyrannical their ferocity the emblem

“Striding purposefully forward, it holds a whip in one hand. It has the head

of a lion instead of human one, for the lion inspires terror and symbolizes the

frightening aspects of life which awaken terror in the heart of man. The whip, an instrument used to force others to do one’s other will, represents terror caused

by pain and violence” (Ripa 1603, 484-86). In his commentary, Ripa alludes to Agamemnon, quoting Pausanias’s description of the raging face of a lion carved

on Agamemnon’s shield (486). He further alludes in his commentary to Domitian

(Tirus

Flavius

Caesar

Domitianus

Augustus,

oquence by slaying Cicero, he mounted his chariot in triumph and yoked to it lions, forcing their necks to bow to the harsh yoke, desiring by this symbolic act to indicate that great leaders had given way before his military might.]

and vain pride in ferocissi“Etiam

dress to the prince to opt for concord (“Foedera”) and wise conduct (“In Silentium”) and to avoid tyranny, vainglory, and furious conduct. Alciato imagined a triumphal chariot yoked with lions to designate the cruel leadership and vain pride of Mare Antony (fig. 7). Through this metaphorical 28.

[After Antony, that grievous bane of his country, had destroyed el-

ae leaders? for

mos domari” [Even the fiercest and in Wechel’s Paris edieditions Augsburg 1531 both In tamed]. are tion of 1534, it was among the opening emblems, which included the ad-

r. 81-96

A.D.),

a reference

that took a prominent place in the later Hertel edition (76) where the background scene of the personification of Terror is set before Domitian’s dark ban-

111

image, Alciato overtly condemned the unrestrained rulers and warlords

lence (fig. 6).*

Fig. 7. Andrea Alciato, Emblematum libellus (Paris, 1534), A4v, “Etiam ferocissimos domari.” (Courtesy of Glasgow University Library.)

eee

However, Marc Antony’s vivid demonstration of his triumph over his enemies and critics was doomed to fail, since in the Philippics, Cicero had recorded Antony’s military defeats and personal shortcomings for posterity. Alciato’s censure of the tyrannical pride of rulers who drive their people toward the misery of war may have derived from the political thought articulated by the early Renaissance Humanist Giovanni Boccaccio in his The Fates of Illustrious Men (ca. 1358), wherein he blamed arrogant sovereigns who engaged their people in vain bloodshed and misery for the sake of vain glory and avarice (49-50). The idea that rulers motivated by pride and arrogance engage in vain wars was elaborated by Erasmus in his Praise of Folly (1511), where he pointed out, with irony, that wars were motivated with the aid of Philautia (self-love) in vain search for glory.Ÿ He reflected upon the notion further in the adage “Scarabeus aquilam querrit,’ discussed below, where he blamed the “most illustrious” for shaking the world with “storms and mad political struggles” (Erasmus 2005, 184).

quet hall arrayed with skulls and bones. 29.

Erasmus used the metaphoric image of the lion, “king of the animals,’ denoting the fierce monarch and tyrant devouring his enemies in his moralistic adage

“Sacrabaeus aquilam quaerit” [A dung-beetle hunting an eagle] (Erasmus 2005,

197), in which he discussed the bad nature of the eagle, king of birds, as an em-

blem for the bad and belligerent monarch ( see discussion below, 112).

30.

“Is not war the very seedbed and fountainhead of all praiseful deeds? (says Philautia). Now then, what could be more foolish than to undertake, for some reasons or other, a struggle from which both sides emerge more harmed than

helped” (Erasmus 1979, 35-36).

112

EMBLEMATICA

The theme of endless war between unequal enemies was taken up by Alciato in his ironical emblem “A minimis quoque timendum” [Beware of even the weakest foe], *! which underscores the vicious revenge of the al-

legedly insignificant protagonist against a powerful tyrannical enemy. The emblem was likely inspired by Erasmus’s poignant antiwar discourse delivered in his lengthy commentary on the adage “Scarabaeus aquilam quaerit” [A dung-beetle hunting an eagle] (Erasmus 2005, 178-215). Using Aesop's fable as his point of departure, Erasmus criticized both participants in the tale: the eagle, the “king of birds,’* for being a tyrannical sovereign and the lowly, insignificant beetle for plotting to do his hated adversary harm. He

Yona Pinson

Alciato also adopted the elephant, another animal image related to military conflict, for his antiwar discourse.*° The elephant’s negative characterization related to ferocity and warfare has ties to classical heritage, as well as to the medieval bestiary tradition.” Relating the beast to Mars, god of war, Alciato ingeniously turned the familiar metaphor of the war elephant to pacifist purpose in the emblem “Pax,” dedicated to peace. He thus created a moral allegory where the tamed war elephant, rejecting the weapons of war, performed instead the duties of peace by drawing Cesar’s triumphal chariot to the holy temples: Turrigeris humeris, dentis quoque barrus eburni, Qui superare ferox Martia bella solet, Supposuit nunc colla iugo, stimulisque subactus, Caesareos currus ad pia templa vehit. Vel fera cognoscit concordes undique -gentes, g Proiectisque armis munia pacis obir. (Alciato 1534, F3r)

found both creatures reprehensible for engaging in a vicious, endless war (206

and 212). Erasmus described them equally wicked and malicious, black and filthy (202-3). The eagle, dark and hook-beaked, was further characterized in Erasmus ironic yet moralistic adage as a prototype of a malevolent devilish creature (183, 185, and 200), as well as exemplifying the evil greedy sovereign, zealous to enlarge the boundaries of his realm (188-89).% The beetle, “covered with gleaming armour,’ was compared to belligerent warlords (204). The artist responsible for the illustration in Wechel’s 1536 French edition of Alciato visualized the two adversaries engaged in an aggressive pincers-to-beak combat. This emblem figures in the section devoted to “Inimitie” [Enmity] and “Hostilitas” in the Lyons 1549 and 1550 editions. Aneau’s adaptation of the French subscriptio (Alciato 1549, 205) captured the irony of Erasmus discourse™ and also quoted Aesop fable regarding the scarab’s ruse of rolling the eagle’s eggs out of the nest and thus depriving it of decendants. He concluded with the sarcastic remark, “Il n'est nul petit ennemy”: there is no such thing as a small enemy. |

31.

32. 33. 34.

[Τῆς elephant, with its tower-bearing shoulders and ivory tusk, a beast accustomed to dominate the conflicts of Mars with savage ravings, has

now submitted its neck to the yoke: subdued by goads, it draws Cae-

sar’s chariot to the holy temples. Even the beast recognises nations

reconciled on every side, and rejecting the weapons of war, it performs

the duties of peace. |

The dichotomous meaning of the elephant had been noted by Pliny the Elder in his Natural History (bk. 8, chaps. 5-6 and 8), as designating 35.

1531; 1534; 1536; 1549; 1550; and 1621; derived from Aesop's fable no. 153, “The dung beetle and the eagle,’ which inspired Erasmus. See http://mythfolklore .net/aesopica/oxford/153.hrm.

| War elephants were related in Roman imperial iconography to the idea of triumph from the time of Alexander the Great's victory in the battle of Gaugamela (1 October 331 B.C.), where he defeated Darius III, capturing the Persian king’s chariot and his fifteen war elephants. In 79 B.C., on his return from Africa, Pompey the Great (Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus) attempted to enter Rome in a

triumphal chariot towed by an elephant (Plutarch, “Life of Pompey,’ chap. 14;

see Weinstock, 37); following this imperial mythological emblem of triumph, Julius Caesar, celebrating his Gallic triumph in 46 B.C., mounted the Capitol by torchlight with forty elephants bearing lamps (Suetonius, 37.2). The theme of the Gallic triumphal entry was adopted and elaborated by Andrea Mantegna for the fifth panel of the series of the Triumph of Caesar for the Gonzaga ducal palace in Mantua (c. 1484-92, London, Hampton Court Palace), depicting elephants bearing torches (see Lightbown, 142-45).

Thekingofbirds might be conceived in analogy with the lion, king of the beasts, as related to warfare and wrath; see Erasmus 2005, 197. This motif resounds in his adage “Spartam nactus es, hanc orna” (below, 122). In his dedication to Prince Jacque Comte d’Arran (see above, n. 12), Aneau emphasized the point that he had not only translated Alciato’s book of emblems but also offered a commentary on the text (“L'oeuvre tel qu'il est translaté, annoté, & exposé”).

113

36.

On

the meaning of the war elephant, see Pinson, forthcoming, “Besieged El-

ephant.”

DE IONAZ ZIN ας

114

-

EMBLEMATICA

TE

ΞΞΞΞ

=.

Yona Pinson

gentleness, obedience, and military force.” The emblematic image of

the castle-bearing elephant with

warriors,

a

traditional

medi-

eval emblem of warfare used in imagery

up

through

the

early

sixteenth century, was adopted

by the Danish court in the sev-

enteenth century, as Mara R. Wade has demonstrated, where it was transformed into a symbol of the sovereign’s wisdom 3

and bravery, 3 $ and thereby into Fig. 8. Andrea Alciato, Emblematum libellus à vehicle of peace. In the pictura

(Paris, 1534), F3r, “Pax.” (Courtesy of Glasgow

accompanying Alciato’s emblem

Honey Libsorg) (Alciato 1534, F3r), Pax is portrayed as a tamed elephant that has relinquished the war tower and instead In his Natural History, Pliny the Elder described the elephant as a gentle, intelligent, and obedient creature, with the male elephant singled out as useful in a military context, able to carry a “castle full of armed soldiers.” A similar conflicting picture of the elephant emerged in the highly influential thirteenth-century encyclopedic book De proprietatibus rerum (ca. 1240), by the scholastic theologian Barcholomaeus Anglicus, in which the beast was used to exemplify virtue on the one hand, described as the most virtuous and wise animal and mighty defender of human beings against the dragon (the devil), but was also used to exemplify wildness and perilous warfare on the other, affirming the convention of the elephant’s wildness and fury related to the imagery of war. See Trevisa. The positive aspect of elephant symbolism as emblematic of the royal persona

draws Caesar’s chariot (fig. 8). In keeping with the emblem’s

pacifist.

message,

the

illustra-

tor depicted an abandoned suit of armor and weapons in the foreground, thus adjusting the scale of the armor in relation

to the elephant, so as to diminish the latter’s size and,

as a

consequence, its power and ferocity as a vehicle of war.” The

diminutive, tamed war elephant

in the illustration accompanying Aline

rite

portrait of

Peace recalls the emblematic tri-

umphal procession in Colonna’s Hypnerotomachia

Fig.

9.

Francesco

Colonna,

Hypnerotomachia

elephants

carrying girls

Poliphili (Venice, 1499), fol. p6. (Courtesy of Thales aid Paden, ic)

Poliphili, where

tamed

white

holding musical instruments, “blending in magnificent consort,” signifying harmony, march in a procession (see Colonna, 165). The painter-engraver might also have been inspired by another image related to peace and concord from Colonna’s Hypnerotomachia in the form of a hieroglyph that appeared to Poliphilo in a dream (Colonna, 244; see fig. 9). The hieroglyph features a symbol of peace in the form of a caduceus.“! An

ant metamorphosing into an elephant appears at the lower end of the rod. At

the rod’s upper end two elephants appear to change into ants. On either side of the rod, at the center of the hieroglyph, are two vases: the left containing

fire, the right water.“ The blazing fire, a symbol of fury, warfare, and discord

is opposed with water, which might designate concord in this context, as the

was used in Renaissance monarchic propaganda, as, for example, in the impresa

of Sigismondo Malatesta in the refurbished church of San Francesco in Rimini,

where it was intended to connote the ruler’s strength, triumph, and fame (Scher,

63). In later Renaissance culture, the elephant was conceived as a heraldic image of virtue, usually associated with the sagacious ruler (see Heckscher’s seminal essay). In the gallery of Frangois I in Fontainebleau, the elephant was identified with the king by the F (for “Frangois”) on the decorative sash wrapped around it; on L'Elephant fleurdelisé (ca. 1530-35) as identified with the king and representing the wisdom of the monarch, see Panofsky and Panofsky (esp. 130-33).

According to Kathleen Wilson-Chevalier, the god-like King Francis I metamorphosed into a tame civilized elephant, emblem of the good Christian prince (14).

In the later elaboration of the motif, the tamed elephant steps on a shield as it proceeds toward peace; see Alciato 1621, 734, emblem 176. For the influence of the Hypnerotomachia on Alciato, see Hoffmann

14-15); and Manning (54-55, and 69).

1989 (esp.

The caduceus, Alciato’s personal device, flanked with two cornucopia (the horns

of Amalthea) appears in the emblematic image “Virtuti fortuna comes” [Good fortune attendant on virtue]. Through the caduceus and cornucopia, Alciato alluded to his belief that peace brings prosperity and abundance (Alciato 1534, 22). According to Tervarent (235), both the fire and the water designate discord.

116

EMBLEMATICA

Yona Pinson

117

consequences of discord and warfare. He further enhanced

Colonnas concise metaphoric picture by replacing the caduceus symbolizing peace with the image of the sword breaking the crown (“Un glaive nu brisant une couronne”), which the artFig.

10a.

Guillaume

Guéroult,

Le pre-

mier livre des Emblemes (Lyons, 1550), p. 36, “Concorde.” (Courtesy of Glasgow University Library).

ist translated literally, through mier livre des Emblemes (Lyons, 1550), p. 46, “Discorde.” (Courtesy of Glasgow University Library).

text below the hieroglyph reads: “Through peace and concord, small things increase; through discord great ones diminish.’ * Colonna’s hieroglyphic image was adopted and elaborated by Guillaume Guéroult in his didactic French emblem book, Le premier livre des Emblemes, dedicated to the Count of Gruyère (Guéroult, A3r).* As Saunders has pointed out, in the book’s dedication Guéroult stressed its moralistic purpose to guide the prince toward the path of virtue (1988, 196). Guéroult adopted Colonna hieroglyph for the allegories of Concordia and Discordia (figs. 10a and 10b), which illustrate the consequences of peace as opposed to those of warfare (Colonna, P1v-P2r). He elaborated on Alciato’s interpretation of the caduceus (above, n. 41) as related to concord and abundance,

(“Quand paix regne au monde, / Tout bien y abonde” [When peace reigns

in the world, all things abound]), adding the metaphoric imagery of tamed diminutive elephants that designated peace in Colonna’ allegorical pictogram. In the allegory of Discordia, Guéroult proposed a gloomy interpretation of Colonna’s emblematic image, one that emphasizes the disastrous 43.

“Pace ac Concordia parvae res crescunt: Discordia e maximae dillabuntur,’ apparently quoting Sallust (Caius Sallustius Crispus, 86-35 B.C.), “Concordia parvae res crescunt, discordia maximae dilabuntur,” in De bello Iugurthino (10, 6).

44,

| am grateful to the anonymous reader who drew my attention to Guillaume

Fig. 11. Andrea Alciato, Emblematum

the image of a sword piercing a (Augsburg,

28

February

1531),

Elr,

(Courtesy of Glasgow University Library.)

liber

“Pax.”

crown arranged along the central axis of the picture. Flanking this motif are two elephants metamorphosing into ants, as in Colonna’s hieroglyph. The symbolic water vase to the right of the sword is juxtaposed with the blazing fire to the left; the lames that fill the sky underscore the fury and devastation of discord and warfare expressed in the concluding verses of Guéroult’s commentary: “C'est que discorde, avec division, / Met maint royaume en desolation / Et amoindrist bien souvent les grands choeses.” [It is discord and division that put many kingdoms in desolation, and often diminish great things] (47). The anonymous woodcut of the 1531 first edition of Alciato's Emblemata provided an ironic image for “Pax”: a war elephant signifying rage and warfare carrying flaming torches on its back (fig. 11).** Flaming torches symbolized the deadly sin of wrath and connoted warfare in contemporary Northern Renaissance visual culture, as in Georg Pencz’s allegory of Wrath in which Bellona-Nike holds a flaming torch and large sword.# This image 45.

Although the image of a torch-bearing elephant might recall the picture of the torch-bearing elephants in Julius Caesar’s triumphal entry into Rome described by Suetonius (above, n. 35), it is doubrful that the artist or the publisher was

familiar with the literary source or Mantegna’ visualization (though it was

diffused through engravings). However, the antique motif of torch-bearing elephants is clearly related to commemorating victory in the battlefield. It is worth noting that che text of the swbscriptio is identical to the text in the 1534 Paris edition (Alciato 1534, F3r).

Cal de Lenoncourt, Paris, Jacques Kerver; Paris, BnF, RES Y2 404); see Saunders

For this image, see _ hetp://www.britishmuseum.org/collectionimages /AN00621/AN00621144_001_l.jpg. See also Burgkmair’s depiction of /ra, a metaphoric image later adopted by Ripa (1603). In the later illustrated edi-

lowed by a motto and a commentary (1988, 73).

Bellona-like female warrior, with a large sword in one hand and a flaming torch in the other.

Guéroult’s emblem book; the French version of the Hypnerotomachia was pub-

lished in 1546 (Hypnerotomachie, ou Discours du Songe de Poliphile, translated by 1988, 71-75. As Saunders points out, Kerver’s French edition adopted the form of an emblem book—each hieroglyph is illustrated in the form of a pictura, fol-

46.

tions of Ripas Iconologia from 1611 and 1618, the personified /r4 appears as a

ey

“resets

11ὃ

D

SEE EET

D

a warrior in armor topped by an enormous helmet, with a shield hang-

elephants in their armory." Alciato described the trophy Antiochus set up after his victory, which the king intended as a reminder of the undeserved

of this woodcut might have been ref-

praise he and his troops reaped in the wake of this military win, earned, not through the strength of his army, but through the unfair advantage they had in battle due to the savage might of their elephants: Ingentes Galatum semerini [=semermi] milite rurmas,

Spem praeter trepidus fuderat Antiochus. Lucarum cum saeva boum vis, ira proboscis, Tum primum, hostiles corripuisset equos. Ergo trophea locans Elephantis imagine pinxit, Insuper & sociis occideramus ait

Bellua servasset ni nos foedissima barrus, At superasse iuvat, sic superasse pudet. (Alciato 1531, B7v) [He adorned it [the trophy] with the picture of an elephant and furthermore said to his troops: ‘We would have fallen, if this revolting

beast, the elephant, had not preserved us. Pleasing as it is to conquer, it is galling to conquer like this. |

The visualization of Antiochus’s trophy in the 1531 Augsburg edition of the Emblemata underscores the author’s antiwar weave (fig. 12). The 47.

48.

For the Aldegrever ra, see http://www.britishmuseum.org/collectionimages /AN00125/AN00125141_001_Ljpg. In Cartari (324), Bellona, the war-goddess (related to the war-god Mars) is represented as a female warrior, holding a flaming torch and a sword. Before her is an emblematic image composed of a pillar (symbolizing fortitude) topped with a helmet, arrow, and shield, which is decorated with the head of a roaring lion. The commentary (324-25) relates her to fury and rage (attributed also to Mars: see Cartari, 353) and further emphasizes the distressing results of warfare, which include ruin and massacre. Lucian, Zeuxis sive Antiochus, 8-11 (see hecp://www.emblems.arts.gla.ac.uk 1a037, n. 1). /alciato/emblem.php?id=A3

EOS

LON

ET

CELLO

119

emblematic furious war elephant, diminished in size both literally and figuratively, is set against an anthropomorphic dry tree assimilated into

Alciato again took up the image of the savage war elephant but in the context of a warrior’s shame that results from a lopsided victory in battle. In the epigram, Alciato related the story of the battle of King Antiochus against

the Galatians when the king’s ill-equipped troops were rescued from defeat and ultimately triumphed in the battle with the aid of the raging war

TNE GN

Yona Pinson

EMBLEMATICA

was later elaborated by Heinrich Aldegrever to designate war's destructive aspects; the lion epaulettes decorating Wrath’s armor complete this interlace of war symbolism.” In the emblem “In illaudata laudantes” [Praising the wrong things],

6 LINE

ing from its defoliated branch-arm. Through the metaphoric imagery of

a dry (or stumped)

tree, the author

erencing the well-rooted symbol in northern visual culture designating

death.” Nonetheless, it is noteworthy

that this grotesque visualization is ex-

clusive to the unauthorized Augsburg

1531 edition of the Emblemata. In the pictura accompanying this em-

25

blem in the first authorized edition | (Alciato

1534, 40), the proportions

minutive

cuirass

-

°

Fig, 12. Andrea Alciato,

=)

wes

Emblematum

liber

of elephant and tree are altered; a di- (Augsburg, 28 February 1531), B7y, “In iland

arm

protector

laudata laudantes.” (Courtesy of Glasgow

hang from the branches of a tree-post University Library.) relegated to the background. In the

pictura accompanying the emblem in the 1549 French edition, however,

the mighty elephant is contrasted with a trophy made from a lance topped with a cuirass, with a large sword and shield suspended from the branch of a nearby tree. In this edition, the emblem is presented in a new moralistic context, grouped under the sign of Fortune and with a moralized commentary added by the translator Aneau that emphasizes the worthlessness and vanity of a victory gained through dishonorable and unlawful means

(Alciatio 1549, “Louange non louable,” 152-53). In the earlier French ad-

aptation Livret des Emblemes by Jean Lefevre from 1536, where the em-

blem is called “Louer ce que est de vergoigne” [Praise of what is ignoble], the negative aspects of the elephant were expressed even more explicitly in 49.

For the metaphoric image of defoliated branches, and dry and stumped trees in relation to memento mori and death symbolism see Pinson 2009, 134-37.

120

EMBLEMATICA

Yona Pinson

the epigram, echoing Pliny’s mention of Antiochuss use of war elephants (8.6.16) but adopting also the medieval exegesis in regard to the savage aspect of the beast in military context:

Alveoli atque favos grataque melle [=mella] gerit. Arma procul iaceant, fas sit tunc sumere bellum,

Quum aliter pacis non potes arte frui. (Alciato 1531, C3v) [See here a helmet which a fearless soldier previously wore and which

Les Elephans que sceut bailler

was often spattered with enemy blood. After peace was won, it retired

Anthioque en champ conflictoire:

Tant ardemment vont baitailler (=batailler) Que sur Galathes ont victoire. Lors painct tel beste en son histoire, Confessant quelle est mal honneste:

Er dit, jay joye davoir la gloire

Jay honte que lay par tel beste. (Alciato 1536, F2r) [The elephants that Antiochus contrived to send into the field of conflict fight so ardently that they overcome the Galatians. Then does Antiochus depict such a beast in his history, while admitting that it

is dishonorable, and says, I rejoice in the glory; I am ashamed to have

achieved it by means of such a beast (my translation).]

Hope of reestablishing peace clearly preoccupied Alciato’s political thinking, and he gave it voice throughout the Emblemata, in his call to Maximillian, Duke of Milan, to opt for peaceful alliances and concord expressed through the emblematic metaphor of the tuned lute (fig. 1); in his plea for moderate conduct of the ruler through the metaphoric notion of festina lente; and through the metaphor of the war elephant abandoning the battlefield designating peace (fig. 8). Alciato wove a poignant metaphorical image advocating peace in his emblem “Ex bello pax” [Peace succeeding war] (Alciato 1531, C3v) in which a war helmet was converted into a beehive filled with sweet honey (fig. 13).”° The image echoed the prophet Isaiah’s apocalyptic biblical vision of peace: “And they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruninghooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more” (2:4). The message of the epigram is made clear in the final lines, that war should be tolerated only as the sovereign’s last resort: En galea intrepidus quam miles gesserat, & quae Saepius hostili sparsa cruore fuit. Parta pace apibus tenuis concessit in usum,

50.

In the pictura in the 1536 Paris edition, the simple helmet is replaced by a knight's helmet and visor decorated with a feather.

121

to be used as a narrow hive for bees; it holds honey-combs and nice honey. Let weapons lie far off; let it be right to embark on war only when

you cannot in any other way enjoy the art of peace (emphasis added).]

Alciato’s pacifist statement closely echoed Erasmus’s antiwar attitude as articulated in Education of EX BELLO PAX, a Christian Prince, in the chapter titled “On starting war, where he stated that military action may be tolerated in a just cause, but that a prince should

“never be more hesitant or more circumspect than

in starting war... [Δ Jar

always brings about the wreck of everything that is good”

(1997a,

viii-ix

=

and 102-3).°' Erasmus first forged his call to the

Engalea intrepidus quan miles ge/ferat,© que Sæpius hoflili parla cruore fut.

future

monarch

Paria pace apibus tenuis concefit in ufum,

peace

in

to seek

Panegyric

for

Alucoli atq; fauos gratsds melle gerit.

Archduke Philip of Austria,

yma procul laceant, fasfit tamen fumere bellita

than as victor, and we pre-

Fig. 13. Andrea Alciato, Emblematum liber (Augsburg, 28 February 1531), C3v, “Ex bello pax.” (Courtesy of Glasgow University Library.)

declaring: “We prefer you as a peace-maker rather fer you this to the extent that peace is in every way

S1.

Quit aliter pacis non potes arte frui. i ; :

The third and final section of Erasmus’ princely manual was devoted to the “Art of peace,’ as well as to the prince’s obligation to maintain peace and avoid war,

since war always brings misery upon a prince’s subjects (see Erasmus 1997a, xiii).

122

EMBLEMATICA

Yona Pinson

superior to war” (1997b, 137).* Erasmus's plea for peace resounds in his

Querela Pacis addressed to Philip of Burgundy, where he wrote that “the first step towards peace is to sincerely desire it. They who once love peace in their hearts will eagerly seize every opportunity of establishing or recovering it” (1968, 18 and n. 90). Alciato’s idea of a metaphorical beehive contrived as a pacifist symbol may have derived from Erasmus’s commentary and antiwar essay on the adage “Spartam nactus es, hanc orna” [ You have obtained Sparta; do your best for her] (Adage 1401, Mann Phillips 1967, 100-107). Advocating against the vain striving of kings to overstep the boundaries of their realms, Erasmus praised the virtuous example of the king of the bees: deprived of a sting, it also has smaller wings, and thus “is less fitted for flight,” meaning the king bee is unable to go beyond the borders of his realm (Mann Phillips 1967, 106). Alciato’s metaphoric image may also have its origin in a passage in the Greek Anthology that he himself translated, a passage that makes reference to the bees that, in times of peace, nested in what were once the prows of war ships (6.236). Alciato used the bee/wasp metaphor as a model for the exemplary ruler and the peaceful monarch.% The metaphoric image of the bee/wasp was later elaborated in Aldus’s 1546 publication of the Emblemata (see Alciato 1546, fol. 37r) and was expounded in Rouille French and Latin editions

(Alciato 1549, 180; Alciato 1550, 161), in which the clemency of the prince is illustrated in the emblem “Principis clementia”:

Go

Un

52.

As pointed out by Born (see Erasmus 1968, 16-17, and nn. 81-84), according

to Erasmus ideology, “the wise prince is the one who prevents war with his wisdom, rather than the one who wins it by his skills. ‘Wars should be employed, however, only as the last resort, and to repel invasion,” For a translated version of the text, see Mann

Phillips (1964, 300-308);

chis

essay-adage should be considered in the context of Erasmus didactic manuals addressed to princes. 54.

55. 56.

Erasmus expressed a similar sentiment about the eagle, the “king of birds. in the

adage “A dung-beerle hunting an eagle,” discussed above (see p. 107 and nn. 2425). See htep://www.emblems.arts.gla.ac.uk/alciato/emblem.php?id=A3 1a046.

It is worth noting that the medieval belief that bees had kings and armies with which they waged war (see, e.g., Isidore of Seville, Etymologies, bk. 11, 4:3) was converted in humanist thought into the ideological metaphor ofa merciful and peaceful monarch.

123

Vesparum quòd nulla unquam Rex spicula figet Quodque aliis duplo corpore maior erit Arguet imperium clemens, moderataque regna Sanctaque iudicibus credita iura bonis. (Alciato 1550, 161) [The king of wasps never uses his sting” and his body is twice the size of the rest. This argues for a merciful rule and moderated kingship, also that sacred laws should be entrusted to good judges. ]

Callahan pointed out that Alciato’s metaphor of the beehive and the proverbial allusion to the king of bees (wasps) derive from Erasmus’s Education of a Christian Prince and suggested that as the duty of the prince’s tutor was to remind his pupil to follow the king bee’s model of a ruler, since “his reputation for clemency should be his special form of praise.”* The pictura (fig. 14) accompanying the emblem on clemency in the 1550

Latin edition of the Emblemata close-

ly follows the epigram and depicts the

Fig.

Lyons,

14.

Andrea

1550,

Llr,

Alciato, “Principis

Emblemata, clementia.

king of wasps as being “twice the size (Courtesy of Glasgow University Library.) of the rest.” The wasp king is also pictured at the entrance to the hive, as if overseeing the comings and goings of its subjects as well as protecting them by its size. Nonetheless, Alciato’s moralistic metaphor may also have been inspired by Aclian’s comments on the king bee in De natura animalium, where he presented it as the model of the good ruler “who is at once gentle and inoffensive and also stingless” (1: 5.10 and 11, 299-301) and which may have been a source for Erasmus

proverbial metaphor as well. Through the image of the king bee, Aelian traced an image of a peaceful, temperate, and moderate ruler while point-

ing to two opposing traditions. According to one, king bees are stingless;

57. 58.

On how the king of wasps (or bees) uses its stinger according to antique sources, see Callahan 1979, 190; Aristotle 1965-70, 5, 21.5; Pliny, 8, 52-53. For another elaboration of this metaphor in Erasmuss adage “A dung-beerle

hunting an eagle,” see Erasmus 2005, 183-84.

emies (men) or their own citizens (bees) (1: 59).”

Alciato transmitted the idea of reconciliation and alliance between

harsh enemies in the emblem “Concordia” [Concord], first published in

the first edition of his Emblemata (Alciato 1531, B4r). In the epigram, he referred to a passage from Tacitus relating to the reconciliation and alliance of Roman warlords after an aggressive civil war that devastated the country (69-70 A.D.).® In the original pictura (Alciato 1531, B4r), the artist visualized the reconciliation and alliance by portraying the two warriors joining their right hands in a gesture of peace, while holding their helmets in their hands.“! Each is nonetheless flanked by his respective armed legions. Aneau’s epigram in the Lyons 1549 edition, where this emblem and other emblems about concord were grouped in a section devoted to the virtues, was more descriptive, tracing the image of “civil blood, burning everywhere

IEEE

discussing her work with me. Referring to the peace after the Roman civil war (“When Rome was marshalling her generals to fight in civil war”); Horace, Epodes 16.2, “Rome is being destroyed by her own might” (written during the civil conflicts of 41 B.C.). See Alciato 1531, B4r, n. 2. In the Lyons 1549 and 1550 editions, this pattern is replaced by two elegant warlords in full armor and helmet. This was also the case in the 1550 Latin version. Among emblems specifically on the theme of concord we find “Marques de Concorde” [Signs of concord] (Alciato 1549, 62) and “Concordiae Symbolum” [A symbol of concord] (Alciato 1550, 45), in which Concordia is symbolized through the metaphorical image of

crows—already crystallized in the first Augsburg edition (Alciato 1531, A4r)— who represent mutual love and loyalty, a notion derived from Aelian's De natura on the subject were

“Concordia”

(Alciato

1549, 63; 1550, 46); “Concorde insuperable” (Alciato 1549, 64) and “Concordia insuperabilis” [Insuperable concord] (Alciato 1550, 47); and “Ung ne peut rien:

12

Non tu irrumpes perfracto limite, Caesar

Dum Charolus populis bellica signa dabit. Sic sacrae quercusfirmis radicibus adstant. Sicca licent venti concutiant folia. (Alciato 1531, C8r-C8v) (Though Father Ocean rouses all his waves, though, barbarous Turk, you drink the Danube dry, yet you shall not break through the boundary and burst in, while Emperor Charles shall give to his peoples the

[Hope is at hand], with images of waves and stars. I am grateful τὸ the artist for

emblems

—

Occeanus quamvis fluctus pater excitet omnes, Danubiumque omnem barbare Turca bibas,

wrong for one who rules and directs such numbers to do any injury” (see Ae-

(3.9). Other

ET

time, as we can learn from the epigram of the emblem “Firmissima convelli non posse” [The firmest things cannot be uprooted], where Alciato referred to the very real menace of the Turkish invasion of Europe:

Aelian notes further that “stings are pretence, an empty scare, for it would be

animalium

yen

followed by “Foedera” (see above, 101 and 110), referred to reconciliation and alliance between the “nobles of Italy” who were engaged in forming new federations. Thus, Alciato’s emblem of harmony and concord was set into a real historical context. He also responded to the actual military events of that

antiwar ideology, was also a response to the actual military conflicts of his time. Alciato’s work even inspired modern responses as may be seen in Lorna Mclntosh’s painting Perseverance, the Companion of Victory II. According to the artist, images in this work have their origins in Alciato’s pacifist metaphors. The composition combines visual elements from the emblems “Ex bello pax,” including of the warrior’s helmet transformed into a beehive, and “Spes proxima’ the motif

62.

ii nn

[i.e., in all parts of the earth] when Rome, a land ruled by the bellicosity of Mars, was destroyed by her own might” (“Au sang civil ardent de toutes pars / Quand par soy cheut Romme, terre de Mars”; Alciato 1549, 63). It would appear that Alciato’s pacifist discourse hinted at real events specifically related to Duke Maximilian’s peacemaking gestures on the one hand and actual religious-military conflicts on the other. As already pointed out, the motto of the first emblem dedicated to Duke Maximilian, “Foedera Italorum”

lian, 1: 60; 5: 10-11). Alciato’s humanistic vision of peace, inspired by Erasmuss

61.

a

Yona Pinson

according to the other, they are “born with stings of great strength and trenchant sharpness” and yet they never use their stings against their en-

60.

NS

EMBLEMATICA

124

59.

tS

LA

ya

signal for war. Even so, holy oaks stand firm with tenacious roots, though the winds rattle the dry leaves.]®

The pictura shows an oak tree—symbolizing fortitude in Renaissance imagery (Tervarent, 118)—standing firm against harsh winds, here alluding to the steadfast resistance of the Christians against the invading barbarous forces. In his support of the Emperor Charles V’s military campaigns to defend the Holy Roman Empire against the invading Turkish forces,“ Deux

posse”

peuvent beaucoup”

Ρ [One

Ρ

(Alciato 1549, 65) and “Unum nihil, i duos Fplurimüm

can do nothing, two can do much] (Alciato 1550, 48).

63.

My translation. In the 1549 and 1550 editions, this emblematic image is placed in the category of the virtue of Concord.

64.

See Hantsch; it is worth noting that Aneau added a personal dedication to Emperor Charles V in his adapted French vernacular text of Alciato: “Cest Embleme est faict à l'honneur de L'empereur Charles cinquiesme, qui garda le grand

126

EMBLEMATICA

Yona Pinson

Alciato adopted the modified attitude toward war that his elder, Erasmus, had expressed in his response to the Turkish siege of Vienna in 1529. In the face of the very real menace,

Erasmus

composed

his

Laetus erit Cereri Baccho quoque fertilis annus, Aequorei si rex alitis instar erit. (Alciato 1531, Blv) [From fat ears of corn weave supple garlands, and let the vine encircle

them with alternating stems.® Decked out with these the halcyon

birds build their nests on the wave of the glassy sea, and cherish their unfledged chicks. The year will be rich for Ceres and fertile for Bacchus too, if the king is the image of the bird of the sea.]

trea-

tise De bello turcico on the eve of the Fig. 15. Andrea Alciato, Emblematum her(Augsburg, (Anecbus 28. February Ἐσῦταλιν15 liber 28 1531), Bly, “Ex pace ubertas.” (Courtesy of Glasgow University Library.)

Diet of Augsburg in 1530 (Rummel, s S Although le cat 315-34),®

with the thought that he did not oppose war against the infidel barbarian Turks under the banner of Christ and expressed his hope that Christians

will win “splendid victories for Christ” (325), his dilemma regarding the

call to war was apparent throughout the work, as he reminded his readers of his fundamentally pacifist viewpoint: “In my writings I am lavish in my praise of peace and fierce in my hatred of war” (315). Alciato’s call for peace culminated in the emblem “Ex pace ubertas” [Abundance from peace], which was included in the first Augsburg edition, where the cryptic mention of halcyon birds alluded to the mythological reunion of Alcyone and her beloved husband Ceyx, after their transformation into halcyon birds, and to their mutual love and concord during Ceyx’s peaceful rule before his tragic death at sea.“ In the pictura, the birds are shown nesting on a rocky island (fig. 15). The epigram reads:

The allusion to concord and peace derives from the story of Ceyx and Alcyone, as told by Ovid, and from the commentaries of Pliny the Elder, according to which in mid-winter and mid-summer when the halcyon birds—now usually identified with the kingfisher—breed and hatch their chicks, the sea is peaceful and calm, especially around the island of Sicily.” The optimistic promise disseminated through Alciato’s mythological parable was further elaborated in Cesare Ripa’s emblem of Pax (fig. 16).” The personified Peace, a winged woman dressed in white and crowned with a wreath of grains and olive branches, is entrusted with the torches usually held by /ra/Bellona. Standing on a large shield, Pax puts the torch to 67.

68.

Quas arcu alterno palmite vitis ear.

His comptae Alcyones tranquilli in marmoris unda Nidificant pullos involucresque fovent.

69.

or Charles V, who prevented the Grand Turk from entering Vienna in Austria]

(Alciato 1549, 66).

=

Erasmus previously vigorously advocated his objection to war even against the Turks (as I suggest above, see n. 4); it is not coincidental that, when facing the Turkish menace, his approach changed, echoing the 1530 Diet of Augsburg; this resounds in the initial first edition published in Augsburg (Alciato 1531). Ovid, Metamorphoses,

11,11. 410-748, esp. 740-48;

Pliny the Elder, Natural

History, 10.47. In both Rouille’s 1549 (217-18) and 1550 (192) editions, the emblem appears in the section on Peace (Paix/Pax).

Τῆς origin of Alciato’s notion of a calm and peaceful sea, as related to the halcyon, may have come from Erasmus’s adage 1152: “Halcedonia sunt apud forum” [These are halcyon days in market], quoting Vergil, Georgics, Il. 918-19: “The halcyons calm the waves and tame the sea” (see Erasmus

Turc de passer à Vienne en Austriche” [This emblem is made in honor of Emper-

66.

As described above (n. 41), Alciato expressed his pacifist ideology that peace engenders prosperity and abundance through the emblematic image of the caduceus, symbol of peace, Aanked by cornucopias. Seen. 66. The allegorical meaning of the halcyon birds was adopted later in exegetical literature (Isidore of Seville, Etymologies, bk. 12, 7:25) and in medieval

bestiaries (e.g., British Library, Royal MS 13 B. viii, fol. 11r).

Grandibus ex spicis tenues contexe corollas,

65.

127

70.

1991, 318). Al-

ciato might have been familiar with Aelian’s characterization of the birds (1.36): “While the halcyon is sitting (nesting) the sea is still and the winds are in peace and amity. It lays its eggs about midwinter; nevertheless, the sky is calm and brings fine weather, and it is this season of the year that we enjoy the ‘halcyon »» days’ In Ripa (1603, 375-78), Pace (Peace) is not accompanied by a woodcut illustration; in the text, however, Ripa relates peace to abundance and describes the female personification holding a cornucopia filled with fruits and flowers and the branch of an olive tree in her left hand. In her right hand, she holds a torch pointed toward arms. The cornucopia is the symbol for the abundance that results from peace. Peace is setting fire to the heap of arms, signifying war.

128 Lax

EMBLEMATICA Pax

SubPax pageCereren baa wet Sub bras Semen orton adr pace vance Cores

το

Yona Pinson

a

pile

of weapons

military

and

banners.

The

emblem further explains that in peacetime, Mars is sleeping and the earth is flourishing, visualized by the putto leaning on a large cornucopia, a symbol of abundance, Conclusion

The

thread

pacifist pressed

de

.

Fig. 20. Cesare Ripa, Iconologia (Augsburg, 1758-60), p.76, “Pax.” (From Ripa 1971, courtesy of Dover

Rublipaions dnc)

thought is throughout

exhis

pioneering Emblemata. First articulated in the 1531 Augsburg edition, his call for peace became political with imbued

Der Sride

i dua mind our Der BoleterRhy Beil hewalirt prac

of Alciato’s

scholarship. In the new emblematical topos crystallized in the various versions of Alciato’s Emblemata and visualized through the pictura, we can detecta significant interaction between antique heritage and medieval mor-

alistic traditions,” as manifested through some of the allegorical emblems

discussed above.” The longing for peace was thus a truly fundamental connecting thread through the many editions of the Emblemata, and all commentators on the Emblemata should be thoroughly aware of the pervasive nature of this theme. Works Cited

Aelian. On the Characteristic of Animals. Trans. A. F. Scholfield. The Loeb Classical Library. London, 1958. Aesop. Aesop Fables. Trans. Laura Gibbs. Oxford, 2002. See also http://www -mythfolklore.net/aesopica/oxford/. Alciato, Andrea. Emblematum liber. Augsburg, 28 February 1531. See also http://www.emblems.arts.gla.ac.uk/alciato/books.php?id=A3 1a &o=.

. Emblematum libellus. Paris, 1534. See also http://www.emblems arts.gla.ac.uk/alciato/books.php?id=A34b&0=.

significance once it was addressed directly to the Duke _

of Milan, who :

involved

in

the

. Livret des Emblemes. Trans. Jean Lefevre. Paris, 1536. See also http:// www.emblems.arts.gla.ac.uk/alciato/books.php?id=FALa&o=.

was

fiercest

conflicts in Italy between the French court and the Habsburg court. The moral measure of Alciatos pacifist discourse gained even greater significance when the emblems were grouped within the context of thematic classifications and virtues and vices, a framework introduced by Rouille in the 1549 French and 1550 Latin editions of the Emblemata, the former expounded upon and commented by Barthélemy Aneau, and both editions approved and confirmed by Alciato. This moralizing structure demonstrates the correlation of Alciato’s antiwar discourse to Erasmus’s various manuals intended for young men of noble birth through his influential Adagia. Ir was not by chance that the earliest editions of Alciato’s book of em-

blems were issued in Northern Renaissance cultural centers, where they

were illustrated by local artists whose cultural and artistic backgrounds were steeped in late medieval and early modern sources fused with classical

129

. Emblemes. Trans. Barthélemy Aneau. Lyons, 1549. See also http:// www.emblems.arts.gla.ac.uk/alciato/books.php?id=FALb&o=. . Emblemata. Lyons, 1550. See also http://www.emblems.arts.gla.ac uk/alciato/books.php?id=AS0a&o=. . Emblemata. Padua, 1621. See also http://www.emblems.arts.gla.ac uk/alciato/books.php?id=A21a&o=.

71.

2.

On the issue of Alciaros medieval heritage, see also Alciato 2004, 6-7.

As pointed out by Friedrich Ohly, there is continuity between medieval con-

cepts and emblematics. Nonetheless, Ohly separates Renaissance emblematies

from medieval “allegorical dictionaries” and their “Christian symbolism” (quot-

ed and discussed by Hoffmann (esp. 2-4, and nn. 7-9).

rene

rh

Lae

Mae

aA ene ne te zz n

EMBLEMATICA

130

Yona Pinson

_ A Book of Emblems. The Emblematum Liber in Latin and English

by Andrea Alciati (1492-1550). Trans. and ed. John F. Moffitt.

Jefferson (NC), 2004.

Aristotle. Historia animalium. History of Animals. Trans. A. L. Peck. London, 1965-70. Balavoine, Claudie. “Le classement thématique des emblémes d’Alciat: recherches en paternité” In The Emblem of the Renaissance and Baroque Europe.

Tradition

and

Variety.

Selected Papers of the

Glasgow International Emblem Conference 13-17 August, 1990, ed. Alison Adams and AnthonyJ. Harper. Leiden, 1992. Pp. 1-21. Boccaccio, Giovanni. The Fates of Ilustrious Men. Trans. and abridged by Louis Brewer Hall. New York, 1965. Cackwell, George Law. “Isocrates as rhetorician.” In Encyclopedia http://wwwbritannica.com/EBchecked/topic See Britannica. /296237/Isocrates/3577/Isocrates-as-rhetorician#ref213952.

Callahan, Virginia Woods. “The Erasmus-Alciati Friendship.” In Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Lovaniensis. Proceeding of the First International Congress of Neo-Latin Studies, ed. J. IJsewijn and E. Kefler. Leuven, 1973. Pp. 133-41. “The Mirror ofa Prince? Erasmian Echoes in Alciati’s Emblematum Liber? In Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Amstelodamensis, Proceeding of the Second International Congress of Neo-Latin Studies, ed. P. Tuynman, G. C. Kuiper, and E. Kefler. Munich, 1979. Pp. 183-98.

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Erasmus, Desiderius. The Education of a Christian Prince. Trans. with an

intro. by Lester K. Born. 1936. Rpt. New York, 1968.

. The Praise of Folly. Trans. with intro. and commentary by Clarence H. Miller. New Haven, 1979.

. The Education of A Christian Prince. Trans. Neill M. Cheshire and MichaelJ. Heath, ed. Lisa Jardine. Cambridge, 1997. [1997a]

. Panegyric for Archduke Philip of Austria. In Erasmus, Education of A Christian Prince, wans. and ed. Lisa Jardine. Cambridge, 1997. Pp. 111-45. [1997b]

. Collected Works of Erasmus. Adages. Vol. 31. Trans. Margaret Mann Phillips, annotated by R. A. Mynors. Toronto, 1982. Vol. 33. Trans. and annotated by R. A. Mynors. Toronto, 1991. Vol. 35. Trans. and annotated by Denis L. Drysdall, ed. John N. Grant. Toronto, 2005. Gombrich, Ernst. “Icones Simbolicae: The Visual Image in neo-Platonic

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astrologie. [Orig. ca. 1510.] Paris, 1976.

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“Alciati, Andrea, of Milan, 8 May 1492-12 January 1550. In Contemporaries of Erasmus. Ed. Peter G. Bietenholz and Thomas B. Deuscher. Vol. 1. Toronto, 1985. Pp. 23-26.

Hantsch, Hugo. “Le problème de la lutte contre l'invasion turque dans l’idée politique générale de Charles-Quint.” In Charles-Quint et son Temps. Colloques Internationaux du CNRS. Paris, 1959. Pp. 51-60.

Cartari, Vincenzo. Le vere e nove imagini de gli dei delliantichi. Padua, 1615.

Heckscher, William S. “Bernini’s Elephant and Obelisk.” Art Bulletin 29

Colonna, Francesco. Hypnerotomachia Poliphili: The Strife of Love in a Dream. Trans. with an intro. by Joscelyn Godwin. London, 1999. Davis, Marin. Aldus Manutius: Printer and Publisher of Renaissance Venice. Malibu, 1995.

Dealy, Ross. “The Dynamics of Erasmus’ Thought on War” Erasmus of Rotterdam Society Yearbook 4 (1984): 53-67.

(1947): 155-82.

Herding, Otto. “Isokrates, Erasmus, und die Institutio principis christiani,” In Dauer und Wandel der Geschichte: Festschrift fiir Kurt von Raumer, ed.

1966.

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DA DIN

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SP

NPN IEN

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À

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UNNI

nk

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ἐκ ah aneste

Yona Pinson

Hoffmann, Konrad. “Alciato and the Historical Situation of Emblematics.” In Andrea Alciato and the Emblem Tradition. Essays in Honor of Virginia Woods Callahan, ed. Peter M. Daly. New York, 1989. Pp. 1-46. Homer.

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The Iliad. Trans. A. T. Murray. Loeb Classical Library. Vol. 1. Cambridge (MA), 1924.

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Brayer and Anne-Françoise Leurquin—Labi. Paris, 2008.

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Colenbrander. s Hertogenbosch. October 2015. [Cited as “Images of War” | Pliny the Elder. Natural History. Vol. 3, bks. 8-11. Trans. H. Rackham.

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Plutarch. Lives: Agesilaus and Pompey. Pelopidas and Marcellus. Trans. Bernadette Perrin. The Loeb Classical Library. Vol. 5. London, 1917.

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Lightbown, Roland. Mantegna, with a Complete Catalogue of the Painting, Drawings and Prints. Oxford, 1986. Mann Phillips, Margaret. The “Adages” of Erasmus. A Study with Translation.

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Ripa, Cesare. Iconologia. Rome, 1603. . Baroque and Rococo Imagery. The 1758-60 Hertel Edition of Ripas Iconologia with 200 Engraved Illustrations. Ed. Edward A. Masser. New York, 1971.

. Erasmus on His Times. A Shortened Version of the “Adages” of Erasmus. Cambridge, 1967.

. Iconologia. Ed. Piero Buscaroli with a preface by Mario Praz. Torino, 1988.

Manning. John. The Emblem. London, 2002.

Rummel, Erika, ed. The Erasmus Reader. Toronto, 1990.

McIntosh, Lorna. Perseverance, the Companion of Victory II. Oil on board,

Sallust. C. Sallusti Crispi de Bello Iugurthino liber. Bibliotheca Gothana. Hamburg, 1912.

2009, 17 x 20 cm. Included in the exhibition “Breaking the Renaissance Code. Emblems and Emblem Books.” Glasgow, The Hunterian Art Gallery, 25 June-4 October, 2011.

Ohly, Friedrich. Von geistingen Sinn des Wortes im Mittelalter. Darmstadt, 1977.

Saunders, Alison. The Sixteenth-Century French Emblem Book. A Decorative and Useful Genre. Geneva, 1988. . “Sixteenth-Century French Translations of Alciati’s Emblemata; French Studies 44 (1990): 271-88.

Ovid. Metamorphoses. Trans. Frank Justus Miller. Loeb Classical Library. London, 1916. Rpt. 1958.

Scher, Stephen K., ed. The Currency of Fame: Portrait Medals of the

Panofsky, Dora, and Erwin Panofsky. “The Iconography of the Gallery François ler at Fontainebleau.” Gazette des Beaux-Arts 52 (1958):

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. “The Besieged War-Elephant—A Moralizing Anti-war Satire.” Forthcoming. [Cited as “Besieged Elephant.” |

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Hieronymus

Bosch.”

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in Jheronymus

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Jan der Heyden, Pieter. /ra. Engraving after Peter Breugel the Elder, 1558.

1581: Mathematics, Emblematics, and Melancholia*

The British Museum, 1880,0710.641.Seealsohttp://www London,

britishmuseum.org/research/collection_online/collection_obje ct_details/collection_image_gallery.aspx?asserld=1202786&ob)j ectid=1335057&partld=1.

Wade,

Mara

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of Peace in a Seventeenth-Century

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Danish

BRADLEYJ. NELSON

Concordia University, Montreal

Weinstock, Stefan. Divus Julius. Oxford, 1971. Wilson-Chevalier, Kathleen. “Feminising the Warrior at Francis Îs Fontainebleau.” In Masculinities in Sixteenth-Century France:

Using Lars Von Trier’s 2011 apocalyptic movie Melancholia as a post-

Proceedings of the Eighth Cambridge French Renaissance Colloquium, ed. Philip Ford and Paul White. 5-7 July 2003, Cambridge. Cambridge French Colloquia, 2006. See also http://cour-de-france

modern sounding board, this paper has three interrelated objectives.

The first is to situate Juan de Borjas 1581 Empresas morales within the

lively debates over the ontological and epistemological significance

fr/article 253.html.

and value of the emerging scientific paradigms of mathematics and astronomy. The second is to analyze a selection of Borjas emblems

as examples of what I call, following Walter Benjamin, the “moral allegorization” of astronomical and mathematical tropes. The third is to reconsider the place of Borjas pseudoscientific enterprise, and the

emblem in general, in two contrasting definitions of Spanish baroque culture: specifically, Fernando Rodriguez de la Flor’s nihilistic reading of Hispanic early modern melancholy and José Antonio Maravall’s notion of baroque guided culture.

Justine: “The Earth is evil. We don’t need to grieve for it.

Nobody will miss it.” (Melancholia, dir. Lars Von Trier)

Prologue

ars Von Trier’s 2011 movie Melancholia is about the end of the world, quite literally. The overarching predicament for the characters is the impending and unavoidable collision between Earth and a rogue planet ten times its size called Melancholia. With the outcome *

This article is based on research funded by a grant awarded by the Social Science and Humanities Research Council of Canada, hereby gratefully acknowledged.

155 Emblematica, Volume 21. Copyright © 2014 by AMS Press, Inc. All rights reserved.

EMBLEMATICA

BradleyJ. Nelson already decided, the plot consists primarily of track-

ing Justine and Claire, two

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blem 3, “Leve et momentaneum.” (Courtesy of the Rare Book and Manuscript Library of the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.)

eg

story

of Jane

disastrous wedding and reception in which what was supposed to bea ul

affirmation of human emotion’ ability to overcome time and mutability is completely undone by the inability of the melancholic bride to invest in che cultural meaning of the ceremony and its union. In baroque terms, she is disenchanted from the supposed truths embodied by the ridiculously ostentatious spectacle.’ Chapter 2 of Melancholia focuses on Claire’s frantic attempts to wrap her head around the idea of the end of the world. Much of this episode is spent measuring the decreasing distance between the two planets with a powerful telescope in what proves to be an impotent attempt to exert scientific control over the event. According to Von Trier, the movie was based in part on what his analyst told him about melancholics: “{ They] will usually be more level-headed than ordinary people in a disastrous situation, partly because they can say ‘What did I tell you? ... But also because they have nothing to lose” (see Thorsen). Following this logic, an apparent lesson of

the movie would be that melancholy produces the ability to accommodate This is Von Trier’s analysis of his own creation (Thorsen).

137

oneselfto radical changes and the stress they produce. Its primary role here, for the moment, will be to serve as a postmodern emblem for my reading

of Juan de Borjas cosmological emblems in Empresas morales (see fig. 1)

In what follows, I have set three interrelated objectives. The first is to

situate Juan de Borjas 1581 Empresas morales within the lively debates over

the ontological and epistemological significance and value of the emerging scientific paradigms of mathematics and astronomy. The second is to analyze a selection of Borja’s emblems as examples of what I will call, following Walter Benjamin, the “moral allegorization” of astronomical and mathematical tropes. My final objective is to reconsider the place of Borja’s pseudoscientific enterprise, and the emblem in general, in two contrasting definitions of Spanish baroque culture, specifically Fernando Rodriguez de la Flor’s nihilistic reading of Hispanic early modern melancholy and José Antonio Maravall’s notion of baroque guided culture. Cultures of crisis?

It is generally accepted that the intense theological and scientific debates

between Dominicans and Jesuits, otherwise known as the De auxiliis con-

troversy, began in 1581 when the Spanish Jesuit Prudencio de Montemayor

presented several innovative theses on grace that were vigorously attacked

by the Dominican Domingo Bañez, also a Spaniard (see “Congregatio de

Auxiliis”). The kernel of the debate between the Dominicans—the estab-

lished bastion of traditional, book-centered, and contemplative religious

thought—and the upstart, more worldly Jesuits concerned divergent views

on the relation between grace and free will. At first glance it is hard to see

how such a debate might be related to the rise of empirical science. In fact,

however, the main point of contention in early modern scientific debates lies at the heart of neo-scholastic thought concerning man’s free will and, more precisely, how it relates to what God knows absolutely or hypothetically about man’s future actions (see Nelson 2011).

The images of Borja’s emblems are taken from the digitized version of the 1680 Brussels edition and have been provided courtesy of The Rare Book and Manuscript Library of the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, Emblematica Online Digital Collection; the text has been taken from Rafael GarciaMahiques’s on-line version. The expression “culture of crisis” is taken directly from Maravall’s definition of Spanish baroque culture as one that is attuned to crises.

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Discussing the theological arguments in a close reading of great complexity and intricacy, Rivka Feldhay argues that “the Counter-Reformation gave birth to two different Thomist interpretations embedded in different institutional settings, with different problems and goals, different ideological frameworks, and different attitudes to knowledge” (1987, 197). The

“pure” Thomists were the Dominicans, who believed that God’s foreknowledge of man’s actions is absolute and that God’s knowledge and will must

remain inseparable if his omnipotence is to remain intact. In response to this closed dynamic, the Jesuits attempt to resituate God's knowledge and

will according to a temporal relationship in which the exercise of his will in the realization of a divine decree is postponed, similar to the way a deus ex machina enters a play to decree the meaning of a dramatic plot after the protagonists have performed their roles.* According to this new paradigm, until such time as the decree is willed, God’s foreknowledge, that is, scientia, remains suspended, and thus “hypothetical.” By holding that God’s knowledge can be hypothetical, the Jesuits ennoble and lend substance to human knowledge, which had always been considered precarious because of its corporeal and temporal limitations. In this way, the Jesuits are able to destabilize the rigid Thomist dichotomies between the real and the hypothetical, the intelligible and the sensible, the necessary and the probable, and finally, primary and secondary causes.

What motivates the Dominicans’ sharp reaction to the Jesuit position is

precisely this implicit elevation of secondary causes to the status of scientific knowledge, which is where mathematics and, more specifically, mathematical astronomy enter the conyersation. According to Feldhay, the philosophical barrier facing Christopher Clavius, the most important Jesuit mathematician-philosopher in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century, was that Aquinas “appeared to have doubts about the real essence of mathematical entities (geometrical circles, for example), and probably accepted the opinion that they differed essentially from physical entities (material

bodies in the form of a sphere)” (1987, 206). Since astronomical theories

4,

Feldhay continues: “The Jesuits’ main theological objection to the Dominican system concerned the concept of a divine decree embodying both God's foreknowledge and his will. The Jesuits separated God’s knowledge from his will. Separate and prior to the decree, the Jesuits contended, God has ‘scientia media’ by which he knows with a certain and infallible knowledge man’s future acts, although these are not yet predestined by his will. To some degree, God's voluntary decree is guided by his knowledge” (1987, 205).

BradleyJ. Nelson

139

were dependent on these hypothetical mathematical signs and equations to order and communicate their theses and proofs, “[they] had the status of probable, hypothetical truths” rather than necessary, real truths (Feldhay

1987, 207).

In order to legitimize mathematics within Aristotelian natural philosophy, Clavius assembles an ingenious dialectical reversal of Aquinas's decision to enclose and domesticate it via the concept of a middle, or mixed, science: “It was Aquinas who developed the concept of the ‘mixed science? which implied the denial of any methodological autonomy to sciences applying mathematical methods to physical principles (optics, mechanics,

and music were also included in this group)” (Feldhay 1987, 206).5 Rather

than downplay its importance, Clavius emphasizes the mediatory and necessary place and function of mathematics for the study of real, physical objects and the determination of their causes and effects. In short, the cosmos cannot be properly analyzed and understood without the logical signs and theorems of mathematics and geometry: “There is true knowledge of mathematical entities, whose ontological status is now redefined as a hybrid between the hypothetical and the real. This special intermediate status constitutes them as a nexus between the rational structure of the mind and the real structure of the physical world” (Feldhay 1987, 208). The implications of such a stance are profound: if man is now considered a co-creator of real knowledge about the world, then we are essentially talking about the end of the world as the Dominicans understand it. The suspension of God’s free knowledge, temporary as it may be, shifts the center of the universe to-

ward man as surely as Copernicanism shifts the center of the astronomical cosmos toward the sun.° In linguistic terms, the de-anchoring of the meaning of words from the prelapsarian word of God

sets meaning and knowl-

edge adrift, which is, of course, one of the historical and epistemological 5.

There is some regrettable terminological slippage here in Feldhay translation of scientia, moving between “science” and “knowledge”; this probably betrays the unconscious influence of modern scientific ideology, which differentiates between science as knowledge and science as a practice.

6.

This does not mean that the Jesuits subscribed to Copernicus’s heliocentric model of the universe. Clavius consistently rejected heliocentrism until his death. His position was, rather, accommodating of both the real urility of mathematics and astronomical science and a biblically based rejection of the idea that the Earth moves (see Lattis; Biagioli; Remmert).

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EMBLEMATICA

conditions that informs the Renaissance fascination with hieroglyphics and, eventually, emblems and devices (see Russell).

In The Persistence of Presence: Emblem and Ritual in Baroque Spain, 1 argued that the emblem is a powerful tool for the “making present” of political and religious ideals, particularly in efforts by monarchical and religious authorities to interpellate diverse groups and individuals into narratives of (proto) national, religious, and even ethnic identity and unity. This is not dissimilar to Volker Remmert’s thesis in Picturing the Scientific Revolution, which shows how the battle for legitimacy over competing cosmological paradigms was carried out in the title engravings and frontispieces of mathematical treatises in the Baroque (4). In light of the De auxiliis controversy, the mere existence of such deep disagreement points to the void that has opened up where traditional ontological and cultural assumptions are concerned. As Maravall has observed in his study of Spanish baroque culture, the motivation behind the new interest in appealing to the intellect and desire of different classes of readers and spectators arises from the fear that the traditional societal elites in Spain felt because of the profound economic and political changes of early modernity: Individuals were faced with the specter of the monarchy’s ruin and collapse, of society’s misery and laxity, of unemployment and hunger, the shock had to be sufficiently great to threaten many things. It called for the erecting of solid bulwarks in support of the traditional order, or at least that part of the traditional order indispensable for maintaining the self-interest of those groups that continued to hold the power in their hands. (1986, 24)

If we link Maravall’s reading to Mario Biagioli’s compelling argument that early modern political cultures influence the evolution of science more than science influences political cultures, then one important reason for the stubborn resistance to Copernicanism becomes clear: the erosion of the hierarchical relationships codified in the Ptolemaic system threatens the nobility’s claim to “natural superiority.” As Maravall states, “The metaphysical order of being, the basis of the traditional doctrine of Scholasticism, seemed to collapse, rendered unsteady by the dramatic existence of mutability” (179). Enter the emblem, whose cognitive power stems in part from the early

modern belief that hieroglyphic images provide a more direct conduit to

141

metaphysical or universal truths than alphabetical signs. In the words of Fernando Rodriguez de la Flor:

Imagenes cuya virtud principal, y hasta cierto punto caräcter sagrado, consiste en que contienen dentro de si el secreto mismo de la orga-

nizacion ideal del cosmos. Es decir, alcanzan lo que podriamos denominar un caräcter talismanico (pero desde la tradicidn cristiana se αἰτία sagrado, iconolätrico), en el sentido de que en ellas el contacto con la cosa verdadera esta muy préximo.’ (188) [Images whose principal virtue, and to a certain point sacred character, consists in the fact that they contain within themselves the very secret of the ideal organization of cosmos. In other words, they artive at what we could call a talismanic character (but according to a

Christian tradition one would say sacred, iconolatric), in the sense that within them contact with the real thing is very close. ]

In scholastic terms, hieroglyphics correspond to what Aquinas calls natural knowledge as opposed to middle or free knowledge. According to the Jesuit position outlined above, God would have theoretical knowledge of all the possible deployments and meanings of such symbols, but he would not be able to predict which actual meanings would arise in specific historical utterances by human subjects, which helps explain the enormous energy spent theorizing and institutionalizing emblematic modes of representation.*

Juan de Borja The 1581 publication of Juan de Borjas Empresas morales in Prague established what Rafael Garcia Mahiques has termed the “Hispanic emblem” (47). For Garcia Mahiques, the Hispanic emblem emerged from Borjas

decision to take what was largely an individualistic and courtly symbolic practice in the empresa and refashion it in such a way that its interpretation

All translations from Spanish are my own. Referring to early Renaissance sources of iconological thought, Ernst Gombrich notes that “Ficino does not accept the image of the serpent as a mere sign which ‘stands for’ an abstract concept. To him the essence of time is somehow ‘embodied’ in the mysterious shape” (160). I prefer the Bahktinian term utterance for the linguistic event because each utterance in time implies a distinct possible world, or totalizing, “translinguistic” universe (Voloëinov, 20-21, 94). The source for the most in-depth explanation of both “translinguistics” and the “utterance” is V. N. Voloëinov, one of Bakhtin’s pen names (although this issue itselfis far from resolved).

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Bradley J. Nelson

became anchored to a meditative and pedagogical program modeled on Ignatius of Loyolas Spiritual Exercises (see also Maravall 1972). In doing so, he strode directly into the fierce debates over the definition and significance of a diverse array of iconographical tropes and mechanisms by framing the new field of emblematics within the emerging pedagogical program

Rudolf Ils fascination with the occult arts of astrology and alchemy was

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of the Jesuits.!°

An influential Spanish diplomat who occupied key positions in Lisbon and Prague, Borja was an important member of one of the most powerful dynasties in Europe. At first glance, the decision to publish the work in the home city of the Habsburg dynasty and the palace of Holy Roman Emperor RudolfII might be considered an attempt to frame his collection as a gift to the extended family of the Spanish monarchs. After all, Rudolf had spent his formative years in the Spanish court of Philip IL, the most powerful monarch in Europe at the time. And yet, the collection clearly established a new reading practice based primarily on Jesuit meditative and pedagogical practices. Although Juan never donned the habit, his fa-

ther (San) Francisco became a high-ranking official in the Society after the death of his wife; what's more, Juan had married the daughter of Ignatius of

Loyola. The fact that the Jesuits relied heavily on the patronage of Counter Reformation Europe dynastic houses in financing the largest educational reform in European history must have played a role in publishing the book in Prague." But there may also have been a more pointed strategic goal, as

9.

Drawing on earlier work by Dieter Sulzer and Albrect Schòne, Peter M. Daly

has observed chat “[t]he ézmpresa represents the ‘principle of individuation’: it

was used by one person only ‘as the expression of a personal aim. The word it-

self comes from the Italian for ‘undertaking; which underlines the functional

purpose of the impresa. The emblem, on the other hand, is addressed to a larger

audience, its message is general, and it fulfills a didactic, decorative, or entertain-

10.

ing function, or any combination of these” (23). Karen Pinkus notes, “Unlike the emblem, ... the impresa (with body and soul

combined) was believed to be inhabited by an unalienable aura, a metaphysical

causing consternation in Counter Reformation religious circles (Mebane).

As such, Borjas diplomatic mission to Prague can be seen as an attempt to persuade one of the most influential artistic and scientific patrons of late sixteenth- and early seventeenth-century Europe to reform his aesthetic taste and rein in his intellectual curiosity.’ If this is the case, it adds weight to Sylvie Deswarte’s reading of Borja’s 1570

tion and thought in early modernity: “Ie was the receipt of three unsolicited invitations in the space of just two to three years that triggered Jesuit involvement

in what was to become the main thrust of the Society's activities. The calls came

to arrange

a marriage

for the future King

ures such as Francisco de Holanda ...and Luis Jorge Barbuda, a well known

As David Graham

has recently argued, whereas “[t]he device is static

from Emperor Charles V’s viceroy in Sicily, Juan de Vega ... from John II of Portugal ... and from the then viceroy of Catalonia, Francisco de Borja, the Duke

Praz; Panofsky; Gombrich; Daly; Clements; Russell; and Rodriguez de la Flor.

Nigel Griffin has studied the patronage of Jesuit universities, the most important institutions in theorizing and cultivating emblematic modes of representa-

to Portugal

cartographer and draftsman. The influence of both /etrados can be found in Borja’s predilection for mathematical and geometrical images and metaphors” (Nelson 2011, 81). Garcia Mahiques was the first Borja scholar to note this scientific predilection in the Empresas morales; Deswarte’s study, however, establishes a productive angle of analysis by underlining that although Borja saw the utility of scientific images and themes, his influence on Holanda was equally as important as Holanda’s influence on him. In this light, Borja’s emblem book can be seen as a powerful response to the paradigmatic shifts occurring not only within Jesuit thought on free will and mathematics but through European innovations in astronomy. Specifically, the elevation of heretofore “secondary” agents and their knowledge to a more substantial and necessary ontological and epistemological plane creates a more important role for the reader of emblems.

‘enthusiasm’ that radiated out from the perfect combination of Idea and form” (132). For more information on these iconographic and iconological debates, see 11.

mission

Sebastian (a marriage that would never take place, as the young Sebastian met his demise in a quixotic attempt to conquer North Africa). In her study and scholarly edition of Francisco de Holanda’s De Aetatibus Mundi Imagines, a never-finished, illustrated biblical and cosmological history of the world, she credits Borja with revising Holanda’s Neoplatonic treatise according to Counter Reformation doctrine. It was also in Lisbon that “Borja is known to have brought into his diplomatic and social circles fig-

of Gandia and a future General of the Society” (21). Francisco de Borja is the future San Francisco de Borja and father of the author of the Empresas morales. 12.

Robert S. Westman notes that “In the sixteenth century, Hapsburg Imperial patronage, especially during the Rudolfine era (1576-1612), was perhaps the outstanding source of support for astronomical work in Europe” (122).

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semiotically and in space-time, inextricably bound to its subject and object, to which the reader is thus linked ... ; [t]he emblem is dynamic, free to float through spacetime, freshly linked to and recreated by each and every reader”! Graham’s clear description of a generic transformation, which is also epochal, adds precision as well as a pan-European perspective to Garcia Mahiques’s definition of the “Hispanic emblem.” Knowledge of

is no load so heavy in this life, that it does not seem light if we compare it with

other]

(18).

It is worth

ric, and mathematical symbols, because what he stresses time and again is the inability of man to penetrate the real physical causes of the universe through the signs and equations of mathematical astronomy. Conscious of the new role given to human knowledge by the Jesuits, Borja erects a dark mirror on the semiotic bridge that the emblem opens between authors and readers in which the search for knowledge is channeled back through the “nothingness” of human cognition. Instead of deciphering witty devices, or penetrating the hieroglyphic sign in search of ideal and original knowledge, Borja’s reader is guided toward a hermeneutical practice in which all signs point only to the impossibility of illumination and transformation of the worldly self and, by extension, the world. What he accomplishes, in other words, is the conversion of mathematical, geometrical, and astronomical signs, theorems, equations, and so forth, into moral allegories, which buries their aspirations to scientia under a moral imperative not to seek knowledge of a world that is seen as sinful, temporary, and untrustworthy. In the words of Walter Benjamin, “Allegory established itself most permanently where transitoriness and eternity confronted each other

word

liviano

introduces

this background helps us understand Borja’ use of cosmological, geomet-

most closely” (224).

The third emblem of the first part of the collection depicts the mythical Atlas bearing a geocentric universe on his shoulders (see fig. 1). According to Remmert, this common visual motif alludes to the fact that Atlas was “the unchallenged king in all fields of knowledge ... [having been] the first to have organized human knowledge” (133). The motto is “Leve et mo-

mentaneum, or, in Borja’ translation, “liviano, y de poca weight and duration]. The commentary reads, “sin duda carga tan pesada en esta vida, que no parezca liviana; si con el premio que, por los trabajos, se espera en la otra” 13.

dura” [of little no puede haber la comparamos [doubtless there

Graham generously shared with me the visual presentation for his conference paper delivered at the 2014 Renaissance Society of America conference held in New York City on March 27-29.

EMPRESAS

MORALES.

w

the prize that, through our travails, awaits in the | pointing

out

a moral

that

the

judgment

into

the device because it im-

mediately brings to mind

sins such as incontinence,

or excessive libido, along

with a lack of seriousness (see Covarrubias Orozco,

718).

In essence,

transforms

resentation

int

tn

a visual

Borja

rep-

of scientific

and

author-

ity into ἃ proscription against turning Ofie’s. at-

AL

Wome

eae

ele

Fig. 2. Juan de Borja, Empresas morales (1680), p. 15: em-

blem 7, “In pusillo nemo magnus.” (Courtesy of the Rare Book and Manuscript Library of the University of Illinois

at Urbana-Champaign.)

poral world. He quite literally makes light of Atlas burden of knowledge, implying that the entire debate over heliocentrism is vain when we consider the illusory ontological status of human knowledge. The seventh emblem (fig. 2) has the inscription “In pusillo nemo magnus,” which Borja translates “En lo pequeño nadie es grande” [No one is great in small things] (26). The image appears to be a representation of the world with a cross on top and a point in the middle so small that it could almost be taken for a flaw in the engraving. The commentary reads: Cuan pequeño sea todo lo que en el mundo es tenido y estimado por grande, se puede bien conocer si se entiende bien primero cuan pequeño sea el mismo mundo, el cual, segün los astrélogos lo prueban, es como un punto en comparacién de la circunferencia de la ultima es-

fera. Y siendo él tan pequeño, iqué cosa puede haber en él que sea muy

grande, aunque sea señoreändolo y gobernändolo todo? (26)

2 ME M -------ὡ

E

144

D

146

D

rrz

CR

[How small everything in the world may be that is esteemed and taken for great, can be understood if we first comprehend how small the selfsame world is, which, as the Astrologers prove, is like a small point in comparison with the circumference of the last sphere. And being so small, what in it could be great, even mastering and governing it all?]

topsy-tu vy.

15

Given

tological superiority of the celestial spheres is manifested by their mobility,

the

most

identical

image

LEAP SAMBA, MARA ERS, SEBASTES PARE ες perfection, and perceived permanence by compariduaf parces OUC an Quart ἔ fu

et en un puncto, or “En

son.* Th

e

image

itself

enth-century

cen

of Isidores

sev-

map-

14.

is now

Thomas S. Kuhn notes that “The term planet is derived from a Greek word meaning ‘wanderer; and it was employed until after Copernicus’ lifetime to distinguish those celestial bodies that moved or ‘wandered’ among the stars from those whose relative positions were fixed” (45).

Urbana-Champaign.)

finito. (64) [Comparing the Earth with the circumference of the outermost Heaven, mathematicians say that the Earth is like a point in compati-

son with the greatness of the prime mover. The philosophers also say that all of the time of life, compared with eternity, is less than a point,

that Jesuit desen-

Naseer ralecsero odor gaho—or, in its English Erymologia. http://commons. translation, disenchantDiagrammarie. Te O_world_ ment—projects a world in (Wikimedia Commons.)

r Fig. 4. Juan de Borja, Empresas morales (1680), p. 23: emblem 12, “Vitam et inveniet.” (Courtesy of the Rare Book and Manuscript Library of the University of Illinois at

que un punto, por no haber proporciôn entre lo finito y entre lo in-

west, which mean that the now oriented west or, more

everything

a

cen que todo el tiempo de la vida, comparado a la eternidad, es menos

In Borja’s image, the map

which

MORALES.

matematicos

un punto en comparaciôn con la grandeza del primer movil. Los fildsofos también di-

dle (see Thrower, 40-41).

likely,

los

que la Tierra es como

map shows Asia on top, with Jerusalem in the midnow faces could either cosmos is toward the

EMPRESAS

“Puncto

Comparando la Tierra con la circunferencia del postrer Cielo, di-

T-O

147

punto, y en un punto”:

pamundi (see fig. 3). The conventional oriental orientation of the

em

inscription

appears to be an inverted

version

ZA

à

NS

to

make the same point, with

Fig. 3. Isidore of Seville, wrikimediz est Bil map_-_12th_century.jpg.

RE

turns everything awry. Emblem 26 uses an al-

nence but rather because of its sinful and mutable nature (Lattis). The on-

par

om TS

of human cognition, like a mirror or unreal reflection,

monentts

à

the

moral impetus of the commentary, it could also imply that the defective gaze

According to the commentary, what appears to be Earth is actually the entire cosmos, with the Earth reduced to a tiny point the size of an ink stain. Borja is obviously working from a Ptolemaic cosmology in which Earth occupies a central and static location, not because of its nobility or preemi-

cut

D

Bradley J. Nelson

EMBLEMATICA

Paradcid oft

NE

since there is no proportion between the finite and the infinite. ]

By once again allegorizing the cosmological paradigm, Borja reduces earthly phenomena to an infinitesimally small point of no consequence; and

the visual trick that is played on the reader increases the impact of the lesson. Borja’s spiritual thrust could not be any clearer: one should not worry 15.

Lowe this observation to a comment by Bruce Burningham during the discus-

sion of a version of this essay presented at the 2014 meeting of the Renaissance

Society of America in New York City.

mn

148

Bradley J. Nelson

EMBLEMATICA

about things as tiny and insignificant as the terrestrial world, or any knowledge emanating out of its sinful condition; rather, one should look to the life to come. The twelfth device displays a cloud from which a hand emerges holding

a compass in the act of measuring the circumference of a circle (see fig. 4). The motto is “Vitam inveniet,” which Borja translates as “hallara la vida”

[he will find [the] life] (36). The subscription begins:

La mayor discrecién que en esta vida hay, es saber huir de los extremos que son viciosos, y hallar el medio en que esta la virtud. Sélo el que

esto sabe hacer, merece ser llamado sabio y discreto; porque asi como

el geometra sélo sabe hallar el centro en el circulo, asi sdlo es sabio el que, apartandose de los extremos, sigue el medio en que la virtud consiste. (36) [The greatest prudence in this life is, knowing how to avoid the ex-

tremes which are corrupt, and to find the middle where virtue is. Only

he who knows how to do this, deserves to be called wise and prudent; because just as the geometer is the only one who knows how to find the center ofa circle, so too only he is wise who, withdrawing from the extremes, follows the middle in which virtue consists. ]

Just as we have seen with the allegorization of human knowledge tout court and the allegorization of the cosmos, here the profession of geometer and, by extension mathematician, is converted into yet another cautionary exemplum against straying from the tried and true. As Maravall points out, Borja anticipates thinkers such as Montesquieu and Pascal by advocating for “an ideal of mediocrity .. . as a way to assure the maintenance of conservative forces. . .. To have a middle term, there had to be two extremes; therefore, mediocrity preserved the differentiated order” (1986, 134). Moreover, there is no room left for interpretive disputes in these emblems, as the mere idea that differences of opinion could lead to anything other than a distraction from the disciplinary task at hand becomes absurd and petty. Jumping forward in the collection, emblem 70 (fig. 5) features an elliptical space through which two lines pass horizontally: a solid line above and a line of points underneath. The inscription reads: “Sic ex instantibus aeternitas,’ or “asi de los instantes depende la eternidad” [Thus does eternity depend on individual moments] (152). The commentary clarifies that

[n]inguna cosa es mas de estimar, ni verdaderamen-

|

ni el de por venir, sino

q

te es mas nuestra, que el | tiempo . .. no el pasado

tan solamente el presente ... que es tan breve, que no se mide sino con un instante, que es el mas

corto espacio que se puede imaginar. Porque asi

como un punto, que no se

puede dividir por no tener

partes divisibles, pero con todo esto de muchos pun-

tos se forman las lineas, de

la misma manera aunque

un instante no se puede dividir, se debe mucho .

estimar,

pues

de

.

.

infinitos

instantes consta la Eternidad. (152)

.

Fig. 5. Juan de Borja, Empresas morales (1680), p. 141: emblem 70, “Sic ex instantibus aeternitas.” (Courtesy of the Rare Book and Manuscript Library of the

University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.) [[nJothing is more dear, nor more truly our own, than time . .. not the past, nor the future,

but rather only the present . . . which is so brief, that it cannot be

measured, but with an instant; which is the shortest space, that one can imagine. Because just like a point, it cannot be divided, since it has no divisible parts, but even so, from many points lines are formed, in the same manner, although an instant cannot be divided, it should be

held in esteem, as from infinite instants Eternity is composed. ]

As in the previous emblems, terrestrial existence is reduced to a tiny point on an infinite line. Furthermore, the choice of an ellipse to contain the geo-

metrical figures communicates the lesson in a visual manner. Just as the el-

lipse is an imperfect circle and, as such, does not really exist in the cosmos— unlike the perfect circles of the spheres and their movements—so, too, do geometrical figures and the knowledge they communicate lack ontological

ra

150

3 aD

ποτε NOTM

ene ee D ER,

aa

en

rt

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A qd

ss

EMBLEMATICA “

|

EMPRESAS

ΓΝ

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substance.!°

1% -

lo ha de dejar.” (212)

rience of time is reduced

[There is nothing more important for the Christian man than knowing himself, because, if he knows himself, he will not be proud, seeing that he is dust and ashes, nor will he hold the world in high esteem, seeing that he has to leave it so quickly. ]

as

ontological

occurs

with

mundane space in the pre-

-

| |

blems, it is clear that Borja

is subjecting astrological and mathematical signs, instruments, theories, cosmologies, and professions to a meditative

|

—

collection of scientific em-

Fig. 6. Juan de Borja, Empresas morales (1680), p. 199: emblem 100, “Hominem te esse cogita.” (Courtesy of the Rare Book and Manuscript Library of the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign.)

By using King Philip of Macedonia as his exemplary figure of abnegation, Borja connects the entire collection to the classical topos of ubi sunt. The only task left to the reader is thus to look to his soul and not reflect on the earthly domain and its futile debates over free will, cosmological models, secondary causes, or geopolitical gamesmanship, for that matter.

Melancholic readings of the Spanish Baroque

method with strong ties to St. Ignatiuss Spiritual Exercises. Worldly transitoriness, human

mutabili-

Rodriguez de la Flor has argued that Borja’s collection is part of a larger melancholic cultural enterprise: “[L]as producciones simbélicas del arte y los discursos del Barroco hispano llevan en si mismos los gérmenes de su desautorizacién, las semillas de su desconstruccién, y los elementos de su desengaño, mostrandose intencionalmente en un trompe-l'oeil, y revelando, con

ty, and death are the foundation on which Borja constructs an allegorical worldview. As Benjamin puts it, “Allegories are, in the realm of thoughts,

sobre la que al fin todo se funda. Ello desmitifica y anula la ejemplaridad pretendida con que se promueve el proyecto imperial, poniendo en duda el «éxito» de su estrategia discursiva. (22)

ingenious attempts to save mathematical realism from the charge of hypothetical fictions, Borja’s conservative use of astrology and geometry ties the mathematical sciences to a program of disciplinary introspection, known in the Spanish literature and philosophy of the era as desengaño.

Baroque culture, symbolic productions of art and discourses carry within themselves the germs of their repudiation, the seeds of their deconstruction, and the elements of their disenchantment, intentionally displaying themselves as a trompe-loeil, revealing, with supreme persuasive dexterity and rhetoric, the fatal structure of an illusio, on

what ruins are in the realm of things” (177). Despite Clavius’s energetic and

This doctrine is brought home by the one hundredth and last emblem in the collection (fig. 6), the famous “Hominem te esse cogita,’ which Borja

translates as “acuérdate que eres hombre” [Remember that you are a man] (212). The subscription for this concluding emblem warns: Christiano que conocerse,

porque, si se conoce, no sera soberbio, viendo que es polvo y ceniza,

suma destreza persuasiva y retorica, la estructura fatal de una illusio,

which everything in the end is founded. All of which demythifies and annuls the intended exemplarity with which it promotes the imperial project, placing the “success” of its discursive strategy in doubt.

This understanding of baroque melancholy provides an ambivalent reading of Borjas emblems because, in addition to subverting human edifices, be

they ontological or epistemological, there is also a kind of universal sub-

version implicit in the idea that all human 16.

151

.

|

“No hay cosa mas importante al hombre

eer era ear

re

blem, the terrestrial expesame

this

Judging by this small

Ne

per

re

ni estimara en mucho lo que hay en el mundo, viendo que muy presto

the

In

vious one.

X

Tet

em-

nullity

I

fa

ISR

Bradley J. Nelson

to

Ve a

G

Recall that in 1581, we are still several decades removed from Johannes Kepler's identification of the planets’ elliptical orbits around the sun.

endeavors come to naught. It

is a move that brings to mind Jean Baudrillard’s notion of a simulation, or

152

Bradley J. Nelson

EMBLEMATICA

simulacrum, that permanently deters any and all access to the real: “[T]he era of simulation is inaugurated by a liquidation of all referentials—worse: with their artificial resurrection in the systems of signs, a material more malleable than meaning, in that it lends itselfto all systems of equivalences, to all binary oppositions” (2). If this seems like an extreme comparison, consider Rodriguez de la Flor’s description of iconological connotation: “

La potencia ordenadora de la lengua situa también el déficit permanente que hace de la lectura de lo iconico una operacion carente en rigor de final, sin clausura posible. ... La busqueda de sentido es, asi, aquello a que la imagen nos reclama sin descanso y sin final aparente, dado que la representacién artistica es matriz de yerbalizaciones infinitas. (1995, 11) [The ordering potential of language also establishes the permanent deficit that makes any reading of the iconic an operation that rigorously lacks finality, with no possible closure. . .. The search for meaning is, chus, that toward which the image calls us without rest and with no apparent end, given that artistic representation is a matrix of infi-

nite verbalizations. |

It is through this nihilism that Rodriguez de la Flor constructs his understanding of the Spanish Baroque, as well as his related critique of Maravall’s notion of baroque guided culture. What I will argue in this last section is that the anti-Maravallian argument can be contested in at least two ways. First, Rodriguez de la Flor’s reading of Borja is plagued by the same ahistorical understanding of René Descartes that undergirds a large portion of positivist readings of modernity. Second, this same posture leads him to miss Maravall’s point that the consciousness that one is living an illusion, desengano, is not subversive in and of itself. Rather, it functions as a psychological mechanism—vesorte, in Maravall—that, more often than not, leads to the reader-subject’s “active and dynamic” accommodation to his or her condition. Here is where Graham description of the historical and semiotic movement from the static and self-enclosed device to the dynamic and open emblem can be linked to Maravall’s historical understanding of the Baroque: “What we might call a simple static guidance controlling by presence had to give way before a dynamic guidance controlling by activity” (1986, 68). As suggested above, one problem arises from an anachronistic understanding of Descartes’s metaphysics. Lyle Massey points out that Descartes

à

153

efforts to articulate an empirical approach to natural philosophy are stymied by the same Thomist interdictions arising from the finitude and fallibility of human faculties and bodies that we have seen in Borja’s emblems. Similarly, Jacques Lezra reminds us that recent scholarship on Descartes

recognizes the debt owed by the Meditations to Ignatius’s Spiritual Exercises:

“Imagined as an exercise analogous to Descartes’s own represented experi-

ence, a reading of the Meditations would, then, link its epistemology to a phenomenology of perception that leads from error or ‘difficulty’ to the truth by stages or by exercises” (89). This “phenomenology of perception” problematizes what is generally understood as Descartes’s erection of an authoritative perspective that would understand the way things “really work in the world” through a scientific method. Once we resituate Descartes according to an early modern context, we are better able to see that it is not the Spanish Baroque that offers a perverse or deformed reflection of Cartesian rationalism; rather, religious interdictions, or limitations, on the truth claims of scientific empiricism are actually embedded in Descartes’s philosophy (see Nelson 2010, chap. 6). In political terms, this is completely in line with Biagioli’s landmark work on the relationship between courtly culture and scientific progress.

The second way in which Rodriguez de la Flor’s anti-Maravallian argument can be contested arises from his claim that the corrosive reduction of human knowledge to the level of fantasy or chimera moves in two directions at once: on the one hand, it checks the desire for medro [social

advancement] bubbling up from below, manifested in literary genres such as the picaresque; on the other, it subverts the claims of superiority of a blood-based nobility. The nihilist pull of baroque melancholia is seen to crush both caste-based doctrines of transcendence and the modern subject’s bid for autonomy. Put another way, by resisting what he characterizes as Maravall’s misrecognition of the instrumentalization of power of the

monarchical seignorial elites, Rodriguez de la Flor seemingly steps into the void of postmodern deconstruction in order to dismiss the idea that baroque artistic practices in Spain were successfully “guided” by social and political elites in the interest of those same elites.'!’ Throughout this essay, 17.

Rodriguez de la Flor writes, in Barroco, “Creo que la peculiaridad de esta cultura barroca hispana reside, precisamente, en lo que Maravall de entrada niega: es decir, en la capacidad manifiesta de su sistema expresivo para marchar en la direcciôn contraria a cualquier fin establecido; en su habilidad para desconstruir y

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I have attempted to show how scientific debates and the production of emblems were embedded in religious, monarchical, and dynastic relations of power by developing a historical analysis that moves through Jesuit and Habsburg circles. From this perspective, what becomes clear in Borjas emblems is that the ontological emptying out of the pictura together with the emptying out of the meditative subject check the reader's ability to imagine changing the world or his place in it. But this does not mean that Borja is a nihilist in the terms spelled out by Rodriguez de la Flor. Recognizing the vacuum behind earthly appearances does not necessarily lead to a world in which human action is devoid of meaning. Rather, as Borja states repeatedly, one’s thoughts and actions on this mundane plane should be directed toward a more permanent and lasting goal: redemption in the life to come. In the words of Maravall, “Because of this, in an early formulation it was not important to the political or moralistic writer of the baroque to divest reality of the veil that covered it, but to become accommodated (or for us to accommodate ourselves) to that immediate reality” (194). Desengaño is not the end but the means to an end. The Althusserian literary theorist Juan Carlos Rodriguez has also argued that desengaño is a transitional ideology that seeks to mediate the transition between the residual, univocal cosmological hierarchies of the Middle Ages and the sociopolitical, religious, and artistic transformations that accompany the onset of modernity. Rodriguez shows how Renaissance “medievalism” is rooted in an archaic view of honor that exploits the aesthetic conventions of chivalric and pastoral literature in order to strengthen the hold of medieval organicism on social institutions: “The crux of this ideology... is the notion of ‘blood; a notion that encompasses within itself both the category of organic life and the category of living substance” (94). The second emergent frame of honor is often identified with the humanist valorization of honorable actions and individual genius, which Rodriguez calls

BradleyJ. Nelson

animism: “[I]n animism the sou/ no longer signifies one more qualification

with respect to blood but, on the contrary, something radically opposed

to it” (94). Organicism understands the dignity of the nobleman as innate

to his historical materiality (and use value) and thus not susceptible to the effects of desengaño while animism opens a breach between a subjects ontological origins and desire to rise above them. Malcolm Read elaborates: “Such is the infrastructure that sustains the feudal ideological apparatus, notably the distinction between this world and the next, the notion of the world as a book . . . and, more importantly, the significance attached to reading, through which appearances were to be ‘saved’” (2010, 211). “Saving appearances” not only describes early modern efforts to buttress the “self-evident” superiority of the aristocracy (see Read 1997) but also characterizes the millennial (and failed) effort to rescue Prolemaic cosmology from its proven inability to predict the movement of the planets without resorting to geometrical “tricks” such as eccentrics, deferents, equants, and epicycles.'* This Herculean effort to save appearances through the invention of imaginary geometrical concepts is also important to the social and political hierarchies that deployed Ptolemaic tropes as a bulwark against historical transformation. And this would be Maravall’s argument: that the terrifying appearance of the vacuum is what permits and even motivates the

erection of mechanisms of abstract identification whose goal is to harness and guide the animistic drive of the individual. If there were no vacuum— if being were already full—there would be no potential for movement, or creation. Ontologically, it is not the fullness of being that produces free will but, rather, the emptiness that allows desire to circulate. Borja’s readers cannot be interpellated into a redesigned (animist) relation of power until they are first emptied of their organicist ontology, thus preparing them for an individual relationship with their reorganized world.” This emptying 18.

pervertir, en primer lugar, aquello que podemos pensar son los intereses de clase, que al cabo lo gobiernan y a los que paradéjicamente también se sujeta, procla-

But they seldom or never sought fundamental modifications of that technique.

that is, in the manifest capacity of its expressive system to move in the opposite

the first place, that which we can believe are the class interests, which in the end govern it and which paradoxically are also subject to it, proclaiming a double adhesion] (19).

Kuhn writes: “To increase the accuracy or simplicity of planetary theory Prol-

emy's successors added epicycles to epicycles and eccentrics to eccentrics, exploiting all the immense versatility of the fundamental Prolemaic technique.

mando una adhesion düplice” [I believe that the peculiarity of this hispanic baroque culture resides, precisely, in what Maravall denies from the beginning:

direction to any established ends; in its ability to deconstruct and pervert, in

155

19.

The problem of the planets had become simply a problem of design, a problem to be attacked principally by the rearrangement of existing elements” (73). See also Lattis. “In this perspective, the subject as such is constituted through a certain misrecognition: the process of ideological interpellation through which the subject ‘recognizes’ itselfas the addressee in the calling up of the ideological cause

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156

out is where Borjas emblematic method and the reader come together in an expression of desengaño that moves the reader to participate actively in his own interpellation by seeing his empty reflection in the emptied-out images of an allegoricized scientific method. Epilogue

At the end of Melancholia, once it becomes evident that that the rogue planet is circling back to Earth, Claire panics and attempts to take her son Leo and run away from the inevitable destruction brought by the speeding

157

Borja, Juan de. Empresas Morales. Brussels, 1680. . Empresas Morales. Ed Rafael Garcia Mahiques. Valencia, 1998. See http://www.uv.es/mahiques/empresas_libro_A.pdf. Clements, Robert J. PICTA POESIS. Literary and Humanistic Theory in Renaissance Emblem Books. Rome, 1960.

“Congregatio de Auxiliis” In Catholic Encyclopedia. See http://www .newadvent.org/cathen/04238a.htm.

planet. She is forced to turn back, however, and Justine takes her and Leo

Covarrubias Orozco, Sebastian. Tesoro de la lengua castellana o española. Ed. Felipe C. R. Maldonado; rey. Manuel Camarero. Madrid, 1995.

out of sticks, Justine tells Leo that this is a “magic cave,’ which will protect

tween the Emblem and Literature in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth

by the hand and leads them to the lawn where they erect a makeshift teepee

him from Melancholia. There is no protection, of course; the magic cave is simply a ritual through which the trio attempts to accommodate themselves to their finite existence. This is how I understand Maravall’s definition of disenchantment, as none of the characters is fooled into thinking that the magic cave will save them. The consciousness that the world ends opens a nihilistic tear in the fabric of history that different subjects attempt to mend in diverse ways. Maravall’s monarchical seigneurial elements of baroque society erect complex and novel symbolic edifices in an attempt to attract subjects from diverse classes into a “magical haven” against death or, more accurately, against the death of an estatist (in Maravall, estamental) social organization. In this light, Borja’s emblems are powerful mechanisms for the production of melancholy and its accommodating inertia. Works Cited Baudrillard, Jean. Simulacra and Simulation. Trans. Sheila Faria Glaser. Ann Arbor (MI), 1994.

Benjamin, Walter. The Origins of German Osborne. London, 1977.

Tragic Drama.

Trans. John

Biagioli, Mario. Galileo, Courtier: The Practice of Science in the Culture of Absolutism. Chicago, 1993. implies necessarily a certain short circuit, an illusion of the type “I was already there’. ” (Zizek, 2-3).

Daly, Peter M. Literature in Light of the Emblem. Structural Parallels beCenturies. Toronto, 1979.

Deswarte, Sylvie. As Imagens das Idades do Mundo de Francisco de Holanda. Trans. Maria Alice Chico. Lisbon, 1987. Feldhay, Rivka. “Knowledge and Salvation in Jesuit Culture.” Science in Context 1.2 (1987): 195-213.

. Galileo and the Church: Political Inquisition or Critical Dialogue?

Cambridge (UK), 1995.

Garcia Mahiques, Rafael. “Introduccién.” In Empresas morales de Juan de Borja: Imagen y palabra para una iconologia, ed. Garcia Mahiques. Valencia, 1998. Pp. 17-51. Gombrich, E. H. Symbolic Images: Studies in the Art of the Renaissance. Chicago, 1972. Graham, David. “Claude-François Ménestrier’s Art des Emblémes and the Development of BimedialityTh eory” Renaissance Society of America, New York (March 2014). Griffin, Nigel. “Enigmas, Riddles, and Emblems in Early Jesuit Colleges.” In Mosaics of Meaning Studies in Portuguese Emblematics, ed. Luis Gomes. Glasgow Emblem Studies 13. Glasgow, 2008. Pp. 21-40. Kuhn, Thomas S. The Copernican Revolution: Planetary Astronomy in the Development of Western Thought. Cambridge (MA), 1957.

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Lattis, James M. Between Copernicus and Galileo: Christopher Clavius and

Manuel Escudero and Victoriano Roncero Lépez. Spain, 2010. Pp. 195-216.

Lezra, Jacques. Unspeakable Subjects: The Genealogy of the Event in Early Modern Europe. Stanford, 1997.

Remmert, Volker. Picturing the Scientific Revolution—Title Engravings in Early Modern Scientific Publications. Philadelphia, 2011.

Maravall, José Antonio. “La literatura de emblemas en el contexto de la

Rodriguez, Juan Carlos. Theory and History of Ideological Production: The

the Collapse of Ptolemaic Cosmology. Chicago, 1994.

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Melancholia. Dir. Lars von Trier. Perf. Kirsten Dunst, Charlotte Gainsbourg, and Kiefer Sutherland. Denmark, 2011.

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Contexts, ed. D. Castillo and B. Nelson. Hispanic Issues 38. Nashville, 2011. Pp. 65-90.

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Praz, Mario. Studies in Seventeenth-Century Imagery. Rome, 1964. Read, Malcolm. “Saving Appearances: Language and Commodification in Baltasar Gracian.” In Rhetoric and Politics: Baltasar Graciän and

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Manuscript Circulation in the Society of Jesus: Student Emblems from the Brussels Jesuit College: GREGORY EMS

Fonds national de la Recherche scientifique,

Université catholique de Louvain (FNRS, UCL) The emblems that the students of the Brussels and the Courtrai Jesuit colleges exhibited in public throughout the seventeenth centu-

ry have known a unique posterity. Preserved in manuscripts locked away in the colleges’ libraries, not easily accessible, they served as

models for the composition of emblems or devices by several Jesuit writers, These borrowings and adaptations make the comparison of the various versions of a given emblem extremely interesting, since

we can thereby assess the alterations made by the Jesuit authors and

assess the extent to which these writers made the students’ work pass as their own. The main question posed in this article, however, concerns the ways in which some Jesuits gained access to these student compositions.

t the very beginning of the seventeenth century, two new colleges opened their doors in Brussels. The first of these was founded by the Augustinians (1601), while the second was the work of the

r

I am deeply indebted to Nathalie Hancisse, Aline Smeesters, Ingrid De Smet, Lambert Isebaert, and Dirk Sacré for comments on earlier versions of this article.

161 Emblematica, Volume 21. Copyright © 2014 by AMS Press, Inc. All rights reserved.

162

EMBLEMATICA

Grégory Ems

Jesuits (1604).! These two religious orders shared several features in their

of the Society of Jesus in 1773.‘ In total, there are 37 Libri memoriales containing more than 2,200 emblems from 37 exhibitions organized between 1630 and 1685.” Each emblem is composed of a title, a pictura, an epigraph (a short and often ambiguous phrase),* and a poem varying in length and in meter depending on the year.’ Usually the emblem also bears the signature of the student who composed it, and sometimes it is embellished by a pertinent quotation from, in the main, a classical or postclassical source. The high quality of the reproduction of the emblems in the commemorative volumes should not surprise us, since these manuscripts were designed by renowned artists, such as the Brussels painter Antoine Sallaert or the professional

163

teaching approach: for example, both allowed their students to compose emblems and stage Latin plays.* The most important collection of student emblems that has come down to us from the seventeenth century, however, stems from the Jesuit college of Brussels.’ Every year, the highest two classes—the so-called Poetics (or Humanities) class and the Rhetoric class—were tasked with composing emblems, which were then exhibited (hence their Latin designation affixiones*) on the occasion of the feast of the “Miraculous Holy Sacrament,’ when a procession passed through a street adjacent to the college (see Porteman 1996, 9-12, 32). A sophisticated, and usually sumptuous, decorative structure was assembled to frame the exhibition.’ Once the festivities were finished, the emblems were reproduced in manuscript commemorative volumes, which were kept in the college library where they remained until the dissolution

lights the importance that the Jesuits attached to these exhibitions.!”

1.

6.

On these two colleges, see Vanhoutte et al., 195-200; 201-11. For an overview of the various educational institutions in the Low Countries during the seventeenth

calligrapher Georges-Herman Wilmart, also from Brussels (see Porteman 1996, 32 and 39-40). The involvement of such high-caliber artists high-

and De Ridder-Symoens (for the university curriculum). In his inventory of emblem books kept at the Royal Library of Belgium (hence-

forward KBR), Marcus de Schepper lists 66 books, of which nearly one in seven originated from the Augustinians and almost four out of ten from the Jesuits. The practice of the emblem genre by the Jesuits has been the subject of numerous recent studies (see also, ¢.g., Dimler 2007 and 2008; Manning and Van Vaeck;

Brussels Jesuit college and its catalog, see Elly Cockx-Indestege (165, no. 7); and

especially Bart Op de Beeck. The history of the Brussels Jesuit college has also been written several times (Brouwers; Stenuit). NSI

[Ὁ]

century, see Leyder; Put 2008; Put 2006, 71-83 (for the humanities program);

Concerning this collection, I rely on Porteman 1996. This catalog remains the

+

Schepper; Mertens, 57-58). These collections, however, are not comparable in size with the collection of the Brussels Jesuit college, The Latin word affixio refers to all kinds of display, whether of poems, prose texts, emblems, etc., in Latin or Greek. Following Porteman, I use this term spe-

cifically to refer to the entire exhibition of emblems. 5.

See Porteman 1996, 36-38. I am preparing an article thar will take stock of the rich information we have at our disposal about the temporary structure on which the emblems were arranged.

20.324 A, 20.325-20.328,

20.329 A,

201-2), where they appear under the heading “KBR.” Citations of these manu-

most important study of the collection to date. We have preserved some em-

rum symbola et elogia by the Augustinian Brussels college (see Aumann and De

15.683, 20.076, 20.301-20.323,

20.330 A, 20.331 A, and 20.332). The Bibliothéque Nationale de France in Paris houses two more (ms. lat. 10.170 and 10.171). Among these, only manuscripts quoted or referenced in this article are listed among the works cited (see below,

Augustinian college has yet to be studied in detail.

blems from other Jesuit colleges, such as those from the college of Munich (see Lukas, Stroh, and Wiener) or from Augustinian colleges, as it appears from the publication of the Serenissimorum pientissimorumque principum Austriaco-

In all, 35 manuscripts are housed at the Royal Library in Brussels (viz., KBR

4040,

for an overview, see Spica 1996 and 2007). The emblematic phenomenon in the

3.

Fortunately, we still have a seventeenth-century catalog from one of the libraries

of the Brussels college, the maior bibliotheca. The emblematic manuscripts of the affixiones are inventoried in this catalog (KBR 4685, fol. 306-7); see note 7 for an explanation of the citation format. Concerning the maior bibliotheca of the

scripts in the article itself use that heading followed by their current manuscript catalog number.

8.

To designate what emblem studies calls the inscriptio or the “motto,” the students of the Brussels Jesuit college used either the term epigraphe (Porteman 1996,

139) or lemma (Porteman 1996, 150), which I echo in my translations (as “epigraph” and “lemma,’ respectively). 9,

10.

For an overview of the variety of meters used by the students in their emblems, see Sacré 1996a.

It was not unusual for the Jesuits to publish the affixiones made by their students.

See, for instance, the publication of Typus Mundi in 1627, an emblematic exhibition organized by the rhetoricians of the Antwerp Jesuit college (see Porteman 1996, 13, n. 21; 33; 42).

164

EMBLEMATICA

Despite its quality, the Brussels emblematic collection is still largely unknown and insufficiently studied. In the wake of Karel Porteman’s catalog, there have been only half a dozen critical studies, all relating to particular and specific aspects of the corpus.!! Together, these reveal the significant diversity of possible approaches that this collection offers and agree on its appeal, but one may well wonder why there are so few studies about the affixiones. The nature of the corpus can (at least partly) explain this fact. The collection has been preserved in manuscript form and is the work of students, whose literary and linguistic skills could a priori be brought into question or belittled. However, the students’ emblems seem to have been valued in their time. Indeed, part of the collection circulated widely during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, thanks to some Jesuits from

the Flemish-Belgian province (the Flandro-Belgica, to which the college of Brussels belonged), as well as from the Germanic provinces, who incorpo-

rated several student emblems into their own published work. The publication of these student emblems sheds light on an important matter, which is the circulation of manuscripts within the Jesuit order. How did Jesuits from colleges other than the college of Brussels gain access to those manuscripts? Were there any copies? If so, how many of these copies existed and how did they circulate? Before giving some elements of answer, I will take a chronological look at three printed versions that made possible wide circulation of the Brussels manuscripts. Jacobus Caterus and his Virtutes Cardinales of 1645 The first printed account of the Jesuit exhibitions is due to Jacques de Cater, more usually known by his Latin name, Jacobus Caterus.” Born in Antwerp in 1593, Caterus was educated at the Jesuit college of his home-

town (1605-11); immediately afterward, he entered the Jesuit seminary at

Grégory Ems

he taught at the colleges of Courtrai (1614-16) and Mechlin (1616-18).

He was ordained in Brussels in March 1622 and professed his fourth vow there in September 1627. During his lifetime, Caterus held different offices

in Jesuit houses: among other positions, he acted as Prefect of studies at the

college of Brussels (1625-31). He returned to the same office in Brussels in 1654 and was later put in charge of the college library, before passing away in April 1657. In

See Cockx-Indestege; Dekoninck; Denis; Ems 2008; Manning; Porteman 1996, 1998, and 2000; Ragazzini; Sacré 1996b; and Van Houdt and Van Vaeck.

12.

It was Dirk Sacré who first noted that one of Caterus’s books had been designed from a Brussels affixio (Sacré 1998-99). Biographical information about Cater-

us is taken from Sacré (1998-99, 159-61), where the life of Caterus and his literary activity is presented in more detail (see also 161 ff).

1645,

the

Plantin

press

produced

a small

Latin

work,

Virtutes

Cardinales ethico emblemate expressae [The cardinal virtues expressed

through moral emblems] (fig. 2), in celebration of “the recent elevation

of François de Kinschot (Franciscus Kinschotius) to a Knighthood in the Order of Santiago.”"* Even though the book was published anonymously by Balthasar II Moretus, the dedicatory epistle, dated 1 June 1645 and written in prose, is signed by Caterus; we can thus assume, with Dirk Sacré (1998-

99, 168), that the whole work was designed by him.

The collection includes some relatively short poems on each of the cardinal virtues (Prudence, Justice, Fortitude, and Temperance), an exposé in prose, and an outline of its figurative representation or iconismus (for more information, see Sacré 1998-99, 171), Of this booklet, two different kinds of copies survive: one published with illustrations and the other without.'* Luckily, we still have the copy (without any illustrations) that belonged to the maior bibliotheca of the Jesuit college of Brussels. It is now held at the Bibliotheque nationale de France in Paris (Tolbiac, Rez-de-jardin, magasin; catalog number RZ—1766). On the first page of the dedication of this copy, there is a handwritten ownership mark by the Prefect of the college's library, which reads, “Collegii Soc[ieta]tis lesu Brux[ellensis]. M[aior] B[ibliotheca]. 13.

Mechlin. He subsequently continued his career within the Society of Jesus, reading first philosophy and later theology at Louvain (respectively from 1611 to 1614 and from 1618 to 1622). Between these two periods of study, 11.

165

14.

Sacré 1998-99, 168. Kinschots promotion is mentioned both in the full title of the book and at the beginning of the dedication (*2r): “Praenobili ac generoso Domino D{omino] Francisco de Kinschot ... recens inter Equites Ordinis Militaris S[ancti] Iacobi solemniter inaugurato.” For more information on the Order of Santiago, see B. Schwenk (as noted by Sacré 1998-99, 168, n. 41). Sacré (1998-99, 169, and n. 43) has noted that the KBR holds the two different kinds of copies, one with the engravings (VB. 7262 B) and another without

(Il 40316 A). The illustrated copy of the University of Illinois is available online: hetps://archive.org/details/virtutescardinal0Ocate. Dirk Sacré has located a few more copies (1998-99, 168-69). However, it remains difficult to explain

why some copies are illustrated and others are not: presumably, production costs

played a part.

166

EMBLEMATICA

Grégory Ems

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Fig. 1. Fragmentum affixionis de quatuor virtutibus cardinalibus factae a studiosis collegti Soclieta]tis lesu Bruxellae anno m.dexxx. Title page of the exhibirion’s commemorative manuscript. Brussels, Royal Library of Belgium, ms. 20.076 (1630), fol. 1. (© Royal Library of Belgium.)

NTINIANA.

M.

DC.

XLV.

Fig. 2. [Jacobus Caterus], Virtutes Cardinales ethico emblemate expressae. Ad praenoblilem] et generos[um] Dominum D[ominum] Franciscum de Kinschot, equitem Ordinis S[ancti] Jacobi, etc., Antverpiae: ex officina Plantiniana, m.de.xly, title page. Copy consulted: KBR, RP, VB 7262 B. (© Royal Library of Belgium.)

168

AM? Thanks to the catalog of the maior bibliotheca (KBR 4685) in which the books are ordered by subject, we know that the class-mark 4M refers to the section of [Libri] Emblematici (KBR 4685, 305-15; see Cockx-Indestege, 165; Op de Beeck, 54) in which the booklet is listed under the name of Caterus: Jacobi Cateri Virtutes Cardinales, 4.P,° Ant[verpiae], 1645. Caterus’s booklet partly reproduces the manuscript relating the emblematic exhibition mounted by the students of the Jesuit college of Brussels in 1630 (KBR 20.076)—which is in fact the first exhibition from which a manuscript anthology has been preserved (see Porteman 1996, 82-83). The subject of this affixio is identical to that of the booklet: the four cardinal virtues. At the same time, the booklet title page is a nearly identical reproduction of the manuscript’s one (see figs. 1 and 2). The choice of the cardinal virtues as the principal topic for the college's first exhibition is completely in line with the broader objectives underlying the composition of emblems as a pedagogical tool. Although the initial purpose of the Jesuit humanities curriculum was to ensure the education of young men willing to join the Society of Jesus at a later time, it should be noted that the Jesuit colleges quickly attracted a broader range of pupils thanks to the free education on offer.'* The Jesuits thus provided boys from different social backgrounds with a solid educational basis for their future careers. The curriculum aimed at gradually familiarizing the students with the ancient languages—Greek and, above all, Latin—which students had to master as well as (if not better than) their mother tongue. The second purpose of the Fathers was to teach the young Christians virtue and piety. That the Jesuit training was ethical as much as it was intellectual is evident from the emblems of the 1630 exhibition: in addition to demonstrating the creative abilities and the intellectual skills of students, and making the col-

lege more renowned,"” the emblems allowed the Society to spread the ideas 15.

16.

17.

Grégory Ems

EMBLEMATICA

According to Op de Beeck (54), who has studied the Brussels college library and its catalog in detail, the indication ‘4.P; refers to the format of the book and its binding (here a vellum binding, ‘P’ meaning ‘Pergameno’). For more information concerning the Jesuits’ teaching, its objectives, and its organization, see Charmot; Codina Mir; Dainville 1940 and 1978 (esp. chap. 2, 165-307); Herman; and Poncelet 1927. For an overview, see O'Malley, 200242. On the history of the Jesuit colleges, see Lukacs; O'Malley, 200-208; and Poncelet 1927, 3-10. See Porteman 1996, 10-11; 14-15; 22-23. On the educational benefits of the exercise of composing emblems and the good publicity it gave to the colleges, see

169

and values that it held dear. In such a context, the cardinal virtues formed a

suitably edifying subject, not only for the young boys who long pondered the topic they had to emblematize, but also for the viewing public, which consisted (among others) of religious and political dignitaries and whose interest had to be met.

In his dedication, Caterus refers to the school curriculum that Kinschot followed when he was a student at the Jesuit college of Brussels under

Caterus’s guidance:

Pergis quo coepisti pede puer atque adolescens, palaestra quoties ad ulteriorem scholam, toties ad novi honoris templum videbare conscendere. cum Bruxellae, humaniorum studiorum lycaeo

quando in litterarum quasi ex aede virtutis Testis oculatus refero: praefectus, per sex an-

nos morum tuorum industriaeque spectator interfuerim. (*2v—*3r)

[You continue your progress as you have started it in your childhood

and in your youth, when, every time you passed into a higher class at

college, you seemed, so to speak, to elevate yourself from the sanctu-

ary of virtue to the temple of a new honor. I say this because I saw it with my own eyes, when as the prefect of the Brussels college, 1 witnessed your moral qualities and your application for six years.]

As we have seen, Caterus was prefect of studies (praefectus studiorum) at the Brussels college from 1625 to 1631 and, thanks to the commemorative volumes, we know that Kinschot was a student in the Poetics class in

1629-30 and in the Rhetoric class in 1630-31 (Sacré 1998-99, 169, n. 45). Indeed, we still have an emblem by Kinschot when he was in Rhetoric: the

exhibition of 1631 focused on the “tres potentiae animae (intellectus, voluntas, memoria)” [three powers of the soul (intellect, will, memory) ],'* and

the young Kinschot devised an emblema nudum (i.e. an emblem without an illustration) about the intellect (KBR 4040, fol. 15r). Unfortunately, no

emblem by him survives from the 1630 exhibition. The reason for this is provided by the admonition to the reader (Advertendum) with which the

commemorative volume of the 1630 exhibition opens:

Advertendum, in libelli fronte titulove fragmentum dici, quidquid hic depictum descriprumque est: quippe pars est tantummodo emblematum quae anno 1630 a studiosa iuventute fuere affixa. Cum enim ita 18.

the synthesis and extensive bibliography provided in Dekoninck and Ems. On the exhibition of 1631, see Porteman 1996, 84-85; and Manning.

170

Grégory Ems

EMBLEMATICA divisa fuisset materia ut e quatuor virtutibus cardinalibus rhetores

Quaternae

adornaverunt.

Verum

hic

rhetorum

emblemata

tantum,

neque omnia, spectantur; ab his enim mature exacta sunt: at dum cum

poetis mora trahitur, quod non [fol. 2v] ita festinandum cum iis vide-

retur, res paulatim oblivioni tradita est ut deinde haberi recuperarique non potuerint. Hac occasione, facta pariter eodem tempore sunt ea emblemata sive picturae maiores quatuor, de iisdem virtutibus, quae in classe humanitatis pendent; facta, inquam, sunt ab hisce poetis, perillustribus adolescentibus Alberto Comite de Warfuzé, Philippo Emmanuele de Cro¥ filio Comitis de Solre, Alexandro filio Ducis de Bournonyille et Francisco de Kinschot: quae deinde mense lulio 1631 coepta sunt in aes incidi. (KBR 20.076, fol. 2r-v)"”

nominis tui recordatione conspici nequeat, et cuius lineamenta hic

quoque, cum eam iterum in effigie contuebere, facile animo recur-

rent. Fortitudo ea est.... (Caterus, *3v)”

[The group of four are the cardinal virtues: ... Do you recognize them?

They are already more familiar to you than just by image. When

I sought to decorate the aforementioned college with sizeable and richly painted emblematic tableaux representing these virtues, both in order to provide a sample of our teaching” and to give the place more lustre, you undertook to decorate one of them, when you were in the Humanities class; to this day, it remains there so that it is impossible to look at it without remembering your name; its present engraving will easily bring [the tableau] back to mind, when you will once again

[ Warning, on the frontispiece (or the title page), I indicated that

whatever is depicted or transcribed here is “fragmentary,’ because

this is just a selection of the emblems that were exhibited in 1630 by

the students. For the topic was divided in such a way, that of the four cardinal virtues, the students in Rhetoric celebrated Justice and Prudence, while those in Poetics illustrated Fortitude and Temperance. But, here one can only see the Rhetoricians’ emblems, and not eyen all of them. Those have indeed been copied quickly; but because the Poetics students ran late, and it seemed that they should not be pressed, the whole business gradually fell by the wayside so that, in the end, the emblems were neither to be kept nor recovered. The same occasion also gave rise to the designing of four emblems or larger pictures, if

images instead of four. Porteman quotes the Litterae annuae collegii Soclieta]

tis Iesu Bruxellae, anni 1630, fol. menti, antiquitate et miraculis hic duceretur, more veteri ornamentis quae potissimum eminuere terna

ics: the very illustrious young men Albert count of Warfusé, Philippe

This warning informs us that four aristocratic students, to whom the Jesuit refers as perillustres adolescentes, made four larger-size pictures (“pic-

turae maiores quatuor”) devoted to the four cardinal virtues.” Caterus also mentions them in his dedication: 19.

This text is transcribed in De Backer and Sommervogel, 2, col. 278, no. 17, sw.

20.

For these sizeable images, see Porteman

“Bruxelles.” Porteman has analyzed this excerpt (1996, 32-33 and 82).

1996, 32-33 and 82-83. Surprisingly,

the litterae annuae |yearly provincial reports] of 1630 mention three large-size

274: “Solemnem pompam Venerabilis Sacraceleberrimi, cum propter gymnasium nostrum scholasticis studiosi nostri honoravere: inter emblemata magnitudine, artificio pretioque

visenda, ab illustrissimorum quorundam Principum filiis, humanitatis alumnis curata donat.” [When the solemn procession of the Holy Sacrament, very famous in Brussels for its antiquity and miracles, passed along our college, our pupils revered it by ancient custom with decorations made in the school, among which [a group of] three emblems stood out, greatly worth seeing for their size, their artistry and the expense incurred on them, commissioned and donated by students of the Humanities class, who are the sons of some of our most illustrious princes.] (trans. from Porteman 1996, 83, adapted).

you prefer, of those same virtues, which hung in the Humanities class. They were carried out, as I said, by the following students of Poet-

Emmanuel de Croÿ, son of the Count of Solre, Alexandre, son of the Duke of Boumonville, and François de Kinschot. We started to copper-engrave those emblems in the month of July 1631.]

sunt, Cardinales sunt: .. .. Agnoscisne eas iam pridem

Tibi plus quam in imagine notissimas? Cum gymnasium litterarium (de quo iam ante) earum tabulis emblematicis, amplis atque egregie depictis, et ad specimen doctrinae et ad loci splendorem instrui quondam curarem, Tu humanitatis eo tempore alumnus, ex illis eam adornandam suscepisti, quae ita illic etiamnum perdurat, ut sine

lustitiam et Prudentiam celebrarent, poetae fortitudinem et tempe-

rantiam

171

21: 22. 23

For a Dutch translation of this excerpt, see Sacré 1998-99, 170.

Caterus means that Francois de Kinschot knows the cardinal virtues very well since he practices them. The expression used by Caterus to describe the purpose of the exhibition—intended to provide “a sample of our teaching” (“ad specimen doctrinae ”)—is often used about the affixiones, as by the Ratio studiorum—the school program— dating from 1586 and by the ad lectorem-spectatorem of the commemorative volume from 1631 that briefly presents the practice of the emblematic exhibitions (see Porteman

Dekoninck and Ems).

1996, 32; Ems 2013, 95, n. 25; 104, n. 56; and, above all,

172

EMBLEMATICA

Grégory Ems set eyes upon the image. It is that of Forti-

The reproductions given by Caterus were perhaps based on the copper

plates to which the manuscripts advertendum alludes (KBR 20.076, fol. 2v:

tude....]

While Kinschor was in the Poetics class, Caterus was in charge of the exhibition’s organisation. This

was probably the assign-

ment of the Prefect of studies. Caterus tells us, moreover, that Kinschot

was

responsible

for the

representation of one cardinal virtue: the one concerning Fortitudo. Although none of these

images

have

been

“quae deinde mense lulio 1631 coepta sunt in aes incidi”). In any case, both the advertendum and Caterus’s dedication refer to those original representations in similar terms, as “paintings” (KBR 20.076, fol. 2v: picturae; Caterus, "3v: depictis) or as “allegorical tableaux” or “emblems” (KBR 20.076, 2v: emblemata; Caterus, *3v: tabulis emblematicis). The numerous iconographic motifs on these pictures are obviously related to the four virtues, and they recall the motifs displayed on the frontispiece: the snakes wrapping around the title page’s columns and holding mirrors have to be seen in relation to the snake being held by Prudence with a mirror at her feet?‘ The weighing scales and the column are also well-known symbols respectively of Justice and Fortitude. Finally, the chalice and the cruet represent Temperance.” The care that Caterus has taken to reproduce those four pictures is explained by the authors desire to ensure their longevity and to give them a wider circulation: Eam, uti et reliquas, non satis habui tum videre depictas coloribus, nisi postea quoque cernerem aeri incisas. Quod quidem eo animo effeci ut latius spargerentur utque etiam papyro impressae perennarent magis, cum sua quoque chartis aeternitas sit.°* (Caterus, *3v)

pre-

served in the commemorative volume of the af

Fig. 3. Jacobus Caterus, Mirtutes Cardinales. . . (Antwerp, fixio (Porteman 1996, 82),

1645), allegorical representation of Fortitude (inserted between fols. 16 and 17). (© Royal Library of Belgium.)

C

4 ; aterus provides a copy In

26.

his booklet. The picture of

Fortitudo (fig. 3) shows a central, female personification of the virtue lean-

ing against a column on top of a rock. In the background, on either side of her, two scenes are depicted: on the left, a hero fighting a dragon—perhaps Saint Michael, patron saint of Brussels—symbolizes the fight against vice; on the right, a martyr attached to a tree and pierced by arrows recalls the torments of Saint Sebastian. One-word legends indicate that these scenes represent two of the most important characteristics of Fortitude: action (agere) and patience (pati), which are also symbolized by the two objects in the hands of the allegorical figure: a scepter with a hand over it and the Christian cross.” 24. 25.

173

you true prudence, which long ago also conveyed the wisdom of the uncreated,

27.

incarnated Word through the symbol of the snake. But look also at the not so that you can arrange your curly locks or flatter yourselfon your ance, but so that you can see more deeply into yourself and identify your and intentions more clearly . . .]. (Caterus, 2-3) “Temperantiae iconismus. Cernis hunc genium quisquis tabellam hanc

mirror, appearfeelings cernis?

Moderate vinum dum infundit atque etiam aquam affundit, ipsam exhibet tem-

perantiam. . . ” [The image of Temperance. Do you see this angel, you, whoever you are, who see this scene? Pouring the wine with moderation, even adding water to it, he [=the angel] represents Temperance]. Located near the representation of Temperance, the picture also shows another allegory of the same virtue in the form of an angel (genius) pouring liquid from a cruet into a chalice. For the cruet

Sacré hinted that the prefect of studies also played an important part in the

choice of the subject of the affixio (1998-99, 170, n. 50). This explanation of the allegorical rableau partly relies on the iconismus that accompanies it in Caterus’s booklet (16-17).

“Prudentiae iconismus. Heus, iuvenis, quo properas? Serpentem metuis quem diva complectitur? Non is est qui te mordeat, sed qui veram doceat prudentiam: quam serpentis quoque symbolo ipsa olim expressit verbi increati, incarnati sapientia. Sed et speculum aspice, non quo cincinnos ordines aut facie tenus tibi blandiare; sed quo te ipsum pervideas penitius et animi sensa atque consilia clarius perspicias. ...” [What ho, young man, whereto do you hasten? You are afraid of the snake that the goddess holds? It is not one to bite you, but one to teach

as a symbol of Temperance, see Tervarent, 27, sv. aiguiére. (Caterus, 22) 28.

For a Dutch translation of this excerpt, see Sacré 1998-99, 170.

[For me it was not enough to see this virtue painted in color like the others, unless I could also look at them later in copper engravings. I have brought this about so that the images would be distributed more widely, and so that once they were printed on paper, they would be more enduring, since paper too has a lasting quality of its own.

Although Caterus' initiative of dedicating the book he edited to one of

its original authors may seem highly unusual, it is not entirely surprising, since Kinschot’s family probably paid for the publishing of the book.” Be that as it may, by publishing at least part of the exhibition material, he has preserved important information that cannot be found in the corresponding

manuscript

volume,

cree | OL OM STH MRD UN RENE, hn CF RINE BDF ah MSP SD OF er TN FAR

and when compared with

each other, these two documents help us achieve a clearer understanding of the affixio of 1630, Above all, Caterus’s work reveals the high esteem in which the students’ emblems were held, so much so that their publication could be

fag ”

s

29.

of Glasgow

Lowe this insight ro Dirk Sacré.

University

Jacobus Boschius and his Symbolographia of 1701 Jakob Bosch (or Posch),** born at Sigmaringen in 1635, joined the Society of Jesus in 1652. After having studied philosophy in Rome (1654-57) and

theology in Ingolstadt, he was ordained at Eichstatt in May 1655 and professed the fourth vow at Innsbruck in February 1671. During his life, he visited different colleges of the Society—Lucerne (1668-70 and 1683-87), Innsbruck (1670-71), Ratisbonne (1687-91), Fribourg (1691-93), and Landshut (1694—97)—before his death in Munich, in 1704.*! Boschius is best known for having published a vast collection of emblematic devices (imprese) titled Symbolographia at the beginning of the eighteenth century. This major publication—which is regularly cited as a work of reference in contemporary papers**—contains two parts. The first part is composed of seven sermones, written in dactylic hexameters and presenting the principal rules of the device genre (Arbizzoni, 30-31). Those short poetological treatises are followed by the second part, a collection of thousands of devices that are briefly described by the author. Several of them are illustrated by engravings, which consist of twelve images per plate (Arbizzoni, 30;

poser. Caterus’s booklet is

30.

Fig. 4. Jacobus Boschius, Sybolographia sive de arte sym- turn and which were the baliea sermones septem . . . (Augsburg, 1701), np. class[is] work of the Jesuits Jacobus I, tablulal X. (By permission Library, Special Collections.)

they gave wider circulation.

see fig. 4)°3 Dietmar Peil has counted a total of 3,347 devices divided into four groups, as indicated by the works title, namely, sacred devices (905),

unique in the sense that it is the only printed work to reproduce several pictures of one and the same exhibition. Indeed, we shall see that the publications to which we must now

A

Hertenberg, reproduce emblems taken from several affixiones, to which

as beneficial to the pre-

fect who supervised them as to the student com-

BY

17

WA

Grégory Ems

EMBLEMATICA

174

; Boschius

and

Conrad

heroic devices (1,080), ethic devices (1,151), and satiric devices (211).

31. 32.

33.

34.

Jakob Bosch should not be confused with the Jesuit Jacobus Bosch, who died in Brussels on 30 March 1708 (Poncelet 1931, 133) and of whom we have two emblems in the Brussels affixiones: the first one was composed in 1658 when Bosch was in Poetics (KBR 20.316, fol. 66v—67r; subject: Eucharistia) and the second one in 1659 when he was in the Rhetoric class (KBR 20.317, fol. 47ν-48r; subject: Bellum). This biographical information is drawn from Strobel et al., 150-51. Concerning this work, see Arbizzoni, 30-31; and Bencze, 70. See also the brief

presentation in Salviucci Insolera (51); and Spica 1996 (36-37 and 440).

The illustrations were drawn by J. C. Schalck and at least those of the First Class (classis prima, from which all the examples developed in this paper are taken) were engraved by Jacob Müller (“J.C. Schalck del[ineavit]. Jacob Müller sc[ulpsit] or J.C.S. del. J.M. ες). For more information, see Daly and Dimler, 66. See Peil, 213. Peil also states that the book contains the engraved reproductions of 2,052 devices. Léränt Bencze has provided different but unreliable counts (70).

176

EMBLEMATICA

Grégory Ems

Within each group, the deà vices are ordered by themes organized in alphabetical order. Under the letter A of the first / class (Classis I, complectens sa-

cra seu christiana, et Apotheoses

SS [=Sanctorum]), there are,

ἢ for

instance,

two

themes:

Beatus Aloysius Gonzaga

(11

devices) and Anima (10 devic-

3 es). Each device bears a num-

War

ἘΞ ber, in Arabic or Roman type, P the latter being used when the picture of the device is reproduced on a plate. For each de-

Fig. 5. Jacobus Boschius, Symbolographia . . . (Augsburg, 1701), n.p., class/is] I, tab[ula] XVII, device 391. (By permission of University of Glasgow Library, : Special Collections.)

vice, Boschius provides a title, ἃ description of the image,

and a lemma. As Peil

P

points

out, Boschiuss sources “still await decoding” (Peil, 213), even though the Jesuit regularly indicates the name of the author from whom he has taken the device or, more largely, the origin of the devices. Highly renowned names in the area of symbolics and emblematics are mentioned, inlcuding Claude-François Ménestrier (1631-

177

Let us consider device

391 of the classis prima as an illustration of this second possibility (Boschius, 1:28).

This

device

re-

lates to the theme of humility as a Christian virτὰς (“Humilitas. Virtus Christiana”). To reprimand an excess of ornaments, whether they are owed to nature or material wealth

(“etiam in magna fortuna

et naturae gratiaeque ornamentorum copia”), the device represents a tree “sub pomorum suorum copia et pondere fatiscens” [sagging under the weight of its abundant fruits] (fig.

Fig. 6. Brussels, Royal Library of Belgium, ms. 20.314 (1655), fol. 100v. (© Royal Library of Belgium.)

5). For the accompanying picture, Boschius proposes two mottoes: “Humilior quo onustior. Vel:

Feracitate humilior. Bruxell.” [The more one is laden, the more humble one

tertia classis, and seven in the quarta classis. These numbers are interesting,

is. Or, fecundity makes one more humble]. The image of the tree’s branches drooping with the weight of their fruits appears six times in the corpus of the Brussels affixiones.* However, in none of them do I find so much as a hint of the /emmata quoted by Boschius. Although similar lemmas can be found in the affixio of 1655, those are associated with slightly different images. “Quo maior, humilior” (KBR 20.314 [1655, subject: “Laudes senectutis”], fol.

the Brussels exhibitions), even if ic is difficult for me to claim to be exhaus-

edge of a precipice with several of its roots hanging into the void. “Foecundior

1705), Dominique Bouhours

(1628-1702), Henri Engelgrave (1610-70),

and Pierre l'Abbé (or Labbé; 1594-1660). One recurrent source is referred to as Bruxellenses, Bruxellen., Bruxell., and Brux., a designation behind which the Jesuit students of Brussels lurk. Indeed, I have found 146 emblems of the

college of Brussels in the Symbolographia: 63 in the prima classis, 76 in the considering the importance and size of each corpus (Boschius’s collection and

tive. Of the 146 emblems considered, only eight could not be identified with certainty (classis I: 3; classis IIT: 4; classis IV: 1), either because the information given by Boschius does not coincide with the surviving Brussels emblems or because several of the Brussels emblems could match.

100v-101r; see fig. 6) accompanies a picture of an old tree standing on the

35. 36.

In other words, classis prima, p. 28; as each classis is separately paginated, all fur-

ther references to emblems in the Symbolographia will take this form.

KBR 20.304 (1645, “Paupertas”), fol. 26v-27r; KBR 20.308 (1650, “Sancti

Xaverii

Constantia”),

fol.

101v-102r;

KBR

20.313

(1654,

“Beneficia”),

fol.

67v-68r; KBR 20.314 (1655, “Laudes senecturis”), fol. 64v-65r; KBR 20.315 (1657, “Temperantia”), fol. 96v-97r; KBR 20.318 (1660, “Vita”), fol. 85v-86r.

178

Grégory Ems

EMBLEMATICA

179

[=fecundior] quo humilior” (KBR 20.314, fol. 108v-109r;

the epigraph representing ing several of tips anchored

see fig. 7) is

of a its in

a picture tree havbranches’ the earth,

forming as many trunks in

this way (this may be a lime tree, which spreads and multiplies by air layering or marcotting). Despite the changes made by Boschius, it is seldom difficult to identify the Brussels emblems that inspired him for his own devices, and this for several reasons. First of all, the Jesuit usually records acFig. 7. Brussels, Royal Library of Belgium, ms. 20.314

(1655), fol. 108v. (© Royal Library of Belgium.)

curate and precise enough information

about

devoted to the Virgin life (KBR 20.301; in this exhibition, see Porteman 1996, 88-89). Finally, the transformations effected by the Jesuits are often limited, as illustrated by devices 179 and 180 of the classis prima, both in the category Eucharistia. Here are the transcriptions (for the engravings, see fig. 8):

his

source, Generally speaking, the title given by Boschius is rarely identical to the one of the Brussels emblem, since Boschius’s titles are aimed only at referring to the theme to which the device is related. However, Boschius'’s description of the image he envisages does correspond almost exactly to the pictura of the Brussels commemorative volumes. These descriptions are very useful for the study of the manuscripts: however succinct, they are also very precise, and this provides us with precious clues for a correct interpretation of the emblems. In addition, the /emmata or mottoes quoted by Boschius are usually the same as the emblems’ epigraphs, with the exception of some occasional alterations. Then, the identification of the emblems is simplified by the fact that the classification principles adopted by Boschius bear a close resemblance to the themes of the affixiones or are related to them. For example, the emblems signed “Brussels” by Boschius and listed in the category Sancta Maria Dei Mater et Virgo were all taken from the exhibition of 1639, which was

CLXXIX. Effecta Eucharistiae pro sumentium diversitate diversa. Lilium aut rosa, cui hinc apicula, inde araneus insider. L. Sumunt boni sumunt mali.

CLXXX. Et: Rosae ac spinae in eodem frutice pluvia irrigatae. L. Sorte tamen inaequali.... Vel: Nullo discrimine. Bruxell. Et melius:

Quam dispare fructu. Idem. (Boschius, 1:14)

(179. The effects of the Eucharist vary according to the differences between those who partake of it. A lily or rose, with a little bee inside it on one side, and a spider on the other. Lemma: “The good partake of it, and so do the wicked.” 180. And: Roses and thorns on the same bush doused by rain. Lemma: ‘Yet their fate is unequal’... .. Or: ‘without prejudice. Brussels.

Better still: ‘How dissimilar the fruit!’ The same source. } 37.

1am grateful to Ingrid de Smet for having suggested to me a translation of this sentence and the following one when she revised this paper.

180

Grégory Ems

EMBLEMATICA "

?

LE

)Ἥ--

4

ey" Rogen ἰὼ /" ont à

μα. Naretice

pre itatis contutunt.

R Bu. 15 dc f

DCS

2490

(Ὁ

rorem D. Seriptura in venenum

Ae

TER:

ΟὟ

Per corruptas expolitioncs iplum

0

Letter

ὁa

h

Te

lemma of Boschius’s device 179: “sumunt boni sumunt

mali”

Fig. 9. Brussels, Royal Library of Belgium, ms. Fig. 10. Brussels, Royal Library of Belgium, 20.312 (1653), fol. 115v. (© Royal Library of ms. 20.328 (1685), fol. 82ν. (© Royal Belgium.) Library of Belgium.)

These two devices are directly inspired by three emblems from the Brussels affixiones, several elements of which have been reassigned. The picture relating to device 179 (classis 1, tabula 10) shows a lily with a bee and a spider on its flowers. This picture is modeled on the picturae of two emblems, one from the series of 1653 devoted to the Lauda Sion Salvatorem” (KBR 20.312, fol. 115v-116r; see fig. 9) and the other from the series of 1685 about heresy (KBR 20.328, fol. 82v-83r; see fig. 10); the epigraph of these two emblems (“quam dispare fructu” [how dissimilar the fruit]) is identical to the lemma used by Boschius for device 180. Boschius’s image of this last device, which depicts rain pouring on the flowers and the thorns of a rosebush, recalls the pictura of an emblem of the 1653 exhibition: here we see the rain fall indifferently on all the flowers of a field, whilst the emblem’s title is the same as the

38.

title of each emblem of the 1653 Poetics series is taken from the Latin text of the Lauda Sion Salvatorem.

Pea

fol.

Pst

inspired

& i

‘a 1

SNS"

D

: Sumunt bon are

!

malt

Boschius,

they are not as trivial as they seem. Let me demonstrate this point with a few examples. A comparison of devices 179 and 180 of the classis prima with the corresponding emblems of the affixiones

Fig. 11. Brussels,que Library of Belgium, ms. 20.312 (1653), fol. 109v. (© Royal Library of Belgium.)

shows that Boschius’s engravings are more elementary than the pupils’ picturae. This is particularly obvious in the picture with the bees and the spiders. Device 179, which displays this picture, resembles two emblems of the affixiones. A certain Pierre Bartholomée Almiron composed the first (fig. 9) for the 1653 series on the Lauda Sion Salvatorem, of which lines 53-54 provided the title for his emblem (“Vide paris sumptionis quam sit dispar exitus” [Behold! What a different fate comes from consuming yet the same!]). The epigraph is “Quam dispare fructu!” [How dissimilar the fruit!], and the poem, consisting of two elegiac couplets, reads as follows: Floribus illabens sibi sugit aranea virus; Floribus implet apis sedula melle favos. Ambo Deum sumunt: casto medicina malorum est,

The Lauda Sion Salvatorem is a sequence of the Corpus Christi office. Generally attributed to Thomas Aquinas, this sequence celebrates the mystery of the transubstantiation (see Aubert 2008, col. 957-58; Porteman 1996, 124-25). The

20.312,

109v-10r; see fig. 11). As is evident from this example, Boschius sometimes slightly modified the Brussels emblems. Even though the alterations are usually small and do not impede the identification of the emblems

that

Ouan difpare truck! tN

(KBR

181

39.

Note that Boschius associates the epigraph of this Brussels emblem (“nullo discrimine”) with device 180.

Bag ep caren

LS

μέρα NAR t EE

at

LP

RE

ST

a

EMBLEMATICA Impuro

plus quam

Grégory Ems Tangit apis flores, quos tangit aranea; sugit

toxica certa nocet.

(KBR 20.312, fol. 116r)

Illa sibi virus, mel sibi sugit apis. Gens pia mel sacris, virus gens impia libris

[Slipping into the flowers, the spider extracts its poison from them; from the fowers, the sedulous bee fills its honeycombs. Both partake of God: for the pure, it is a remedy against evil; for the impure, it

Haurit et errores hinc legit illa suos.* (KBR 20.328, fol. 83r)

[The bee visits the same flower as the spider. The latter extracts poi-

son from it, whereas the bee extracts honey. Where pious men draw

harms more than a deadly poison.“

honey from Holy Scripture, the impious draw poison and glean their

The second emblem (fig. 10) was composed by Jean Baptiste Franeau in 1685 (see Porteman 1996, 168-70). This student conceives nearly the same picture and develops a similar idea, even though his topic is no longer the

Eucharist but heresy. In this case, the title chosen by the student is “Per cor-

ruptas expositiones ipsum rorem D|ivinae] Scripturae in venenum suae hae-

reticae pravitatis convertunt” [With their corrupted writings, they turn the very dew of Holy Scripture“! into the poison of their heretical depravity]. 42 The epigraph (“Quam dispare fructu”) is identical, while the poem reads: 40.

2

11.

The signature reads “Pet. Barthol. Almiron.” Compare the first couplet of the poem with Tibullus, Elegiae, 2.1, ll. 49-50: “Rure levis vernos flores apis ingerit alveo, / complear ur dulci sedula melle favos” (46). Pierre Dinet informs us (92-95) that dew represents “good doctrine” and “good instruction,” as well as “celestial benefits”: “[S]a propriete et nature ordinaire est d’engresser, et rendre plus fertile la terre, de nourrir les plantes, de susciter les fleurs, suyvant laquelle en la science des Aegyptiens, elle a receu la figure, tant de la bonne doctrine, instruction, et nourriture, qu’on reçoit de quelqu'un, que des benefices celestes” [Its property and ordinary nature is to fertilize the earth and to make it more productive, to nourish plants, to encourage the growth of flowers; and so, in Egyptian science, [dew] represents not only the good doctrine, instruction and nourishment we receive but also heavenly benefits] (92-93). Further, “[T Jous les biens qu'on reçoit d’en haut sont representez par l'humidité de la rosee” [All the

goods that we receive from above are represented by the moisture of the dew] (93).

> tN

τὰ

aaT

As indicated by the student (in a partially incorrect reference: “Pet{ro] Bercor{ii], I[ibro] 8 Reduc[rorii moralis], c[apite] 88”), the title is taken from the thirteenth-century Reductorium morale of Pierre Bersuire , in which the author compares the heretic to the stellion, a kind of lizard believed to live on dew:

“(De stellione]: . . . haeretici . . . rore[m] Sacrae Scripturae legunt, student et

hauriunt, veruntamen exinde nunq(uam] meliores fiu[n]t, quin per corruptas

expositiones ipsum rorem Divinae Scripturae in venenum suae haereticae opini-

onis convertant . . ” [Heretics collect the “dew” of the Holy Scripture, apply themselves to it and drink it down, but even so they never become so good as not to transform, by their corrupted writings, that very dew of Holy Scripture into the poison of their heretical belief] (10.88, 429). The substitution of pravitas [depravity] for opinio [opinion] is revealing of the student's thought. For more information on Bersuire, see B. Heurtebize.

waywardness from it.]

By insisting on the fact that,

from

an_

identical

source (flowers), the bee and the spider produce substances with radically different properties (honey and poison),** the pupils clearly represent the opposite results to which

the

sacrament leads. The range of beehives at the far edge of the garden in Almiron’s and Franeaus pictures helps the reader grasp the meaning of the emblem, since they allude to the honey produced by the bee hovering on the rosebush in the foreground. The

43. 44.

__ e

_

Fig. 12. Boschius, Symbolographia . . . (Augsburg, 1701),

n.p., class[is] I, tabula] XI, device 189. (By permission of University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections.)

The emblem is signed “Joannes Baptista] Franeau Bruxel[lensis] poeta in gym{nasio] Soc[ietatis] lesu Bruxellis 1685.” Note that the two students were probably inspired by an emblem of Hadria-

nus Junius (39, emblem 33); Junius devotes an emblem to the “falsification of

good” (motto: Boni adulterium). The poem explains: “Funesto Arachnen flos idem succo replet, / Apique mella sufficit liquentia. / Concordiae litisque idem dictum est parens: / Scriptura pravis sica, fit scutum bonis.” [The same flower

fills Arachne [the spider] with a deadly sap and sates the bee with liquid honey. The same saying engenders concord or dispute: Scripture, a dagger for the wicked, becomes a shield for the good]. See Ballestra-Puech, 129, and http://www .emblems.arts.gla.ac.uk/french/emblem.php?id=F]

Ub033.

184

Grégory Ems

EMBLEMATICA | engraving of Boschius's de-

+

rs

WV \ (? À AY

(Faaritm VEN en lalutes »

=

w

boli aux

eee sans

cm

€

ù

δῆς.

-

μὰ

”

the

x

PA οὖς 4

a

vice 179 (see fig. 8, above) | is much simpler than the picture produced by either | | student. Even so, the device seems more abstruse, since the engraving does

| not

convey

its

meaning

explicitly, and there is no extrapolating

comment.

It is thus quite difficult to understand that the lemma “sunt boni, sunt mali”

TE M

ἡ

otte vous ter

millia vint

D

Fig. 13. Brussels, Royal Library of Belgium, ms. 20.312 (1653), fol. 89ν. (© Royal Library of Belgium.)

[some are good, some are wicked] alludes respectively to the faithful (who

[bread and wine we conse-

crate into the Victim of sal-

a

89v-90r). The emblems

=\

vation]

(KBR

20.312,

fol.

pictura (fig. 13) represents the nia,’ the and bull

ritual of the “bougodescribed by Vergil in Georgics (4281-314 4.548-58), whereby a is sacrificed to allow

the

birth

of a swarm

bees from its carcass. 46

to see the animals carcass and found bees and honey

the souls” Boschius has chosen an engraving depicting “Samson lion with

a swarm of bees in its mouth” (see fig. 12), accompanied by the lemma “by the death of one, thousands live” (*SS. Eucharistia est vita animarum. Leo Samsonis, in cuius ore visitur apum examen. L. Morte unius tot millia vivunt.

Bruxell.”; Boschius, 1:15: 189). Boschius has found inspiration in the emblem of Jean Philippe van Belle, produced in 1653 with an epigraph identi-

cal to the device’s lemma. The emblem’s subject refers to lines 29-30 of the Lauda Sion Salvatorem, which sum up the dogma of the transubstantiation,

that is, the transformation of the bread and wine of the Eucharist into the Body and Blood of Christ: “[P]anem, vinum in salutis consecramus hostiam”

ΕΣ

;

«7 “patie ni

ἘΝ

;

τε

are mat files Ge,

The biblical and the pa-

Eucharist” are different, and indeed detrimental.

tions to convey a slightly different meaning, The next example will demonstrate it clearly. To illustrate the notion that “the Most Holy Eucharist is the lifeblood of

ae ner

gan stories shareacommon feature that makes them blend easily. The book of

Judges tells us that, a few

however, depend on the authors own choice, in making subtle modifica-

VS.

b \ | (/

of

are blessed with a state of grace) and the impious, for whom “the effects of the

Boschius’ alterations to the picture’s arrangement are probably linked to the difference between the emblem genre and the device genre. Other changes,

185

days after having killed the lion, Samson came back Fig. 14. Brussels, Royal Library of Belgium, ms. 20.312 (1653), fol. 93v. (© Royal Library of Belgium.)

in it (Judges, 14:8). Even though both pictures show that “the death of one ensures the life of thousands,’ they do not exactly convey the same meaning. While the pagan story insists more on the sacrifice, the Old Testament episode prefigures the force of the Holy Spirit, which is so essential (according to the Catholic rite) at the very moment of the transubstantiation: indeed, the book of Judges points out that the young Samson killed the lion with his bare hands because “the spirit of the Lord” empowered him (Judges, 14:6). This example demonstrates that the addition, deletion, or modification of a pictorial motif is not 45.

On this emblem, see Porteman 1996, 124-25,

46.

These are not just any insects, as Porteman has suggested (1996, 124-25), but bees. Indeed, the first elegiac couplet of the student’s poem (“Caede bovem et sepeli: fervent examina putri / De bove: mille animas una necata dabit”) is largely

inspired by a couplet from Ovid’s Fasti (1.379-80: “Tussa facit pastor; fervent

examina putri / De bove: mille animas una necata dedit”; see Ovid 1978, 13), which refers to the Vergilian episode about the bougonia.

186

EMBLEMATICA

Grégory Ems

= indifferent. Such interventions even lead to a partial loss of meaning from the initial composition, as my

final example will show. Boschius’s adaptation of Jean van Busleyden’s emblem (KBR 20.312, ——

é = ΕΓ.

ΟΡ.

fi

fol. 93v-94r), which

3 τ

de-

È picts a mason verifying the straightness of his building with a plumb line, follows a similar logic. Van Busleydens image (fig. 14) illustrates two lines (34-35) of the Lauda

Sion Salvatorem:

“Quod

Fig. 15. Boschius, Sybolographia . . . (Augsburg, 1701), non capis, quod non vides n.p., class[is] I, tablula] X, device 172. (By permission of animosa firmat _ fides” University of Glasgow Library, Special Collections.) [What you do not under-

stand or see, a lively faith affirms for you] (KBR 20.312, fol. 93v). Both the epigraph and the poem that accompany the painting clarify the pun on which the analogy with the mason is based: for “fide non oculo” can mean both “with string (fide, used in the plumb line), not with the [naked] eye” and “with faith (fide), not the eye” because the pious must trust his faith above his senses in order to receive the mystery of the Sacrament. Boschius replaces the plumb line with “a set-square used to determine whether a column is straight”* (see fig. 15). Like the Brussels student, the German

Jesuit seeks to persuade the reader “that faith renders the senses immune to deception.”** The students emblem appears wittier than the device, insofar as the epigraph summarizes in one short sentence the two components of the metaphorical analogy. 47.

For the Latin text, see the next note.

48.

Boschius, classis I, p. 14, CLXXII: “Ur sensus reddantur a deceptione immunes, Fides facit. Dioptra columnae rectitudinem explorans. L, Quod non capis quod non vides. ... Vel: Fide non oculo. Bruxell.”

187

Whatever the scope of the changes made by Boschius, the examples discussed above show that the Jesuit obviously consulted the students’ em-

blems. Despite the abbreviated source indication “Brux.” (or similar) to refer

to the commemorative volumes from the Jesuit college of Brussels, Boschius offers no further detail on his methodology, other than this statement in the “consilium operis et idea,” which follows the dedication: “Quaecunque vero symbola vel spectabis, vel leges, [etsi] ea e multis, etiam ineditis auctoribus, non sine delectu et iudicio collegerim .. ” [All the devices that you will see or read here, I have chosen with careful consideration and discernment from a host of authors, some of whom

are still unpublished . . .] (Boschius, d2v).

This confirms that not all of Boschius’s sources were published at the moment when he designed his publication. The Symbolographia partly remedies this deficiency, and it is not difficult to see the broad dissemination that the selected Brussels emblems received thanks to their inclusion in Boschius’s book of symbols. Boschius, however, is not the only one to have stimulated the circulation of emblems, and we must now turn to our third and final case study, which is that of Conrad Hertenberger.

Conrad Hertenberger and his Historia pragmatica Conrad Hertenberger was born in the region of Bamberg in 1691 and joined the Society of Jesus in 1709. He taught at the university (Heiligenstadt, Heidelberg) and later was appointed confessor to the princes of Thurn und

Taxis in Ratisbonne, where he died in June 1752.”

Hertenberger composed eleven volumes of a universal history, initially called Cursus temporum et regnorum ab initio saeculorum ad praesens usque saeculum, but later published under the title Historia pragmatica universalis sacra et profana (Aubert 1993, col. 218). The preface of the first volume explains Hertenberger’s historiographical aim, that of drawing up a portrait gallery of the most prominent imperial figures. To complete his project, Hertenberger chose a mix of literary genres and added some emblems to his historical exposé: Singulis

Imperatoribus

praemisi

suam

genealogiam

et symbolum

subiunxi, quod etiam explicavi ac moralibus illustravi, addito quoque emblemate suo symbolo correspondente una cum epigrammate. (Hertenberger, [3]) 49.

Biographical information taken from Mugdan, 207. See also Aubert 1993, col. 218; De Backer and Sommervogel, vol. 4, col. 315-16, sv. Hertenberger, Conrad.

188

EMBLEMATICA

Grégory Ems

[For each Emperor I have first supplied his genealogy and his motto, which I have explained and illustrated with moral sayings. I have also added an emblem that corresponds to this motto, as well as an epi-

to the Brussels affixiones, from which he borrowed several emblems, even though he does not explicitly mention his sources. In all, I have identified no fewer than 84 Brussels emblems in Hertenberger’s books.* I note that Hertenberger has gathered all these emblems from no fewer than 21 different commemorative volumes out of a total of 37 that composed the Brussels collection.” At the same time, it is interesting to note that Hertenberger does not always provide an accurate reproduction of the students’ emblems. The following two examples illustrate the extent to which Hertenberger adapted the originals. At page 180b of his second volume, Hertenberger quotes the motto of the Roman Emperor Septimius Severus (Symbolum Septimii Severi),

gram. |

In the last sentence of the praefatio, the Jesuit justifies his choice of introducing poetic pieces into a historical work: Si contra ordinem

lia etiam quandoque

#8 ) 180 C ER

SYMBOLUM

SEPTIMII

SEVERI.

rietate

aliqua

volui;

quod

legentium

Laboremus

mora-

et carmina inspersi, vapro

vario

gustu

uti

“Laboremus”

benevolus

tat. (Hertenberger, [4])

[If, contrary to the genre, I have from time to time inserted moral and poetic pieces, it is because I wanted to show some

Omnia perrumpit patiens labor, omnia vincit:

Et montes transfert et iuga celsa secat. Sic et inaccessas subiit ferus Hannibal Alpes

diversity to meet the vari-

ous tastes of the readers; the kind-hearted reader will not hold it against me. | In the volumes of Historia pragmatica, 5

Omnia perrumpit patiens labor , omnia vincity

_ Et monies transfert, & juga cel/a fecat, Sic € inacceffas fubiit ferus Hannibal Alpes,

,

x fibi per montes faxdque rupit iter, 23. D. LE :

Bip Fe eee

sete ea

pet

de ps

universalis (Frankfurt, 1765), 2:180, Copy consulted: Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek München, shelf

mark H.un. 256-2. (© Bayerische Staatsbibliothek,

Munich.)

Et sibi per montes saxaque rupit iter.

[Enduring work breaks through and conquers all; It moves mountains and cuts away the highest peaks. the not

all emblems are illustrated and some are inserted di-

DO

EPIGRAMMA,

rectly into the main text. Hertenberger, however, has

50.

51.

that

should

the

Numbers of borrowings per year of exhibition: 1639 (1); 1641 (3); 1642 (9); 1644 (3); 1645 (4); 1646 (4); 1647 (1); 1648 (13); 1649 (2); 1653 (1); 1654 (12); 1657 (9); 1659 (3); 1660 (3); 1662 (7); 1663 (1); 1664 (2); 1665 (5); As Porteman has noted (1996, 111), the epigraph “Via labori nulla invia” is adapted from a line of Ovid (Metamorphoses, 14.113: “invia virtuti nulla est via. Dixit et auro” [1993, 333]), which has inspired several authors. Of particular note are the emblematists Georgette de Montenay and Otto Vaenius, who respectively composed the emblems “Invia vireuti nulla est via” (59v-60r) and “Via nulla est invia amori” (92-93).

53.

ΟΕ Vergil, Aeneid, 6.135: “Tartara et insano iuvat indulgere labori” (2009, 164).

have ac-

epigram.

Clearly, the Jesuit had access

5. Given the extent of the Historia pragmatica and of the Brussels emblematic corpus, I cannot guarantee that these numbers are comprehensive, although they result from several searches.

52.

description of the emblem’s — h J companied

Here is the detail by volume: 2: 4, 3: 12, 5: 10, 6: 16, 7: 11, 8: 4,9: 11, 10:5, 11:

1673 (3); 1682 (1); 1683 (1).

.

taken care to give the lemma and/or the title of the emblems, as well as a verbal

Picture

[Let us get to work]. He expands on this phrase with an

emblem whose title and lemma are respectively “Via labori nulla invia” [For effort no way is inaccessible]? and “Iuvat indulgere labori” [What a pleasure it is to indulge in hard work]. The picture shows an army in the background while men hack at a rock face in the foreground (see fig. 16). Beneath it, the epigram explains:

lector mihi vitio non ver-

Titulus : Via labori nulla invia.

189

ER

190

RE

EMBLEMATICA

I

O

7

rt

Grégory Ems

191

Thus fierce Hannibal passed through τῆς

ry. BOR

‘ PERVADI'T’

MNIA

te

Ξ

impenetrable Alps, Opening up a pathway through

rocks

and

mountains.|”*

The emblem from which Hertenberger drew his inspiration was ex-

hibited

in

1649

by che

Brussels student Albert de Bolanger, who was origi-

nally

Via NVLLA ps.

-

©

1

.

LABORL

| Ce: |

‘

INVIA

_ Fig. 17. Paris, National Library of France, ms. lat. 10.171 .

4

(1649), fol. 97v. (By permission, France.)

I

National

Library of

from

Mons

(ΒΠΕ,

ms. lat. 10.171, fol. 97ν-98r). The theme of this affixio was “effort” (dabor), as indicated by the title of Bolanger’s emblem

(“Labor omnia pervadit” [Effort overcomes all]).5

Only

r

the

a

>

emblem’s

ΗΝ

τ

1

epi-

graph (“Via nulla labori inae :

via”), which Hertenberger

used as his title, and three lines of the poem are similar to the version found in the Historia pragmatica.* Indeed, in the 1649 exhibition, the pentameter of the first couplet read: “dissecat a patriis marmora caesa iugis” [he cuts up the marble blocks that were hewn from his country’s mountaintops]. This 54.

See also Hertenberger, 2:180-81: “Laboremus. Tessera haec militaris est Septimii, quod in symbolum venit, dignum duce et quovis principe; nam labor improbus omnia vincit, domat ferrum, emollit aes, aurum in subtiles laminas deducit, muros densissimos evertit et subruit.” [Let us get to work. This watchword of Septimius, that became his morto, suits for each leader [or “general”]

and each prince. Indeed, hard work outweighs everything, tames iron, softens bronze, converts golden into thin leaves, rears down and undermines the most

55. 56.

surdy walls. ] Porteman has briefly analyzed this emblem (1996, 111).

The only difference in the three similar lines is that Hannibal is written Annibal in the manuscript,

Fig. 18. Brussels, Royal Library of Belgium, ms. 20.325 (1673), fol. 97v. (© Royal Library

of Belgium.)

line is reflected in Bolanger’s picture (see fig. 17), which shows two crafts-

men sawing through a block of black marble or perhaps of the blue stone for which Bolanger’s native region of Hainaut is still famous. The student implicitly suggests a parallel between two different types of hard work accomplished thanks to effort: the sawing of the block of stone by the craftsmen and the crossing of the mountains by Hannibal. In his emblem (fig. 16), Hertenberger has chosen to amalgamate these two images and to highlight more clearly the links between Hannibal's feat and the carving work. Indeed, the engraving probably depicts Hannibal's army, with its soldiers literally carving a path through the mountains. For our next example, we must turn to 1673, when the poetics class of the Brussels college had to emblematize Prosperity. One student, who remained

anonymous, titled his composition “Prospera fortunae munera, putamus, in-

sidiae sunt” (Fortune's gifts are prosperous, or so we think; in fact, they are a trap] (KBR 20.325, fol. 98r) and added as the epigraph “Est pars fraudis in illis. Ovid” [There is something misleading in them. Ovid] (KBR 20.325,

oa htt rg nee TW ETTA PE

192

RAE nese

À

Ha bg ee

κατ AE

à

δ δια OA στ YE

TSN ES

A γον EARL

IPO Er

pe

RR

PO

og

SIA

SIE

LSI Nr NR

NEL SEES

ZAO

EMBLEMATICA

Grégory Ems

fol. 98r).57 The pictura depicts a fox carefully approaching a trap baited with grapes (fig. 18); the accompanying poem reads as follows:

Fortune plays on humans, as indeed the emblem’s title (“Fortunae lusus”

Munera forcunae vulpes has autumat uvas Queis tantum fraudes insidiaeque latent. Prospera fortunae qui credis munera, saepe Falleris: insidias, queis capiaris, habent.

(KBR 20.325, fol. 98r)

[The fox considers these grapes a gift from Fortune:

Yet they only hide a deceitful trap.

You who think that prosperity is a gift from Fortune, how often

Will you be mistaken: it is but a trap in which you could be caught. ] This emblem was in all likelihood inspired by Aesop’s fable (ἀλώπηξ καὶ

βότρυςδ) that became famous thanks to the adaptations by Phaedrus (4.3: “De vulpe et uva”) and La Fontaine (1668; fable 3.9: “Le Renard et les rai-

sins”). However, the moral lesson of the fable “The Fox and the Grapes’ is

different from the one developed in the emblem. In the fable, the fox feigns disparagement for the grapes to hide his inability to reach them, whereas in the emblem, the grapes represent the double-edged gift of Fortune that can be easily reached, but not without consequence. Be that as it may, Hertenberger seems to have found the Brussels emblem a good source of inspiration to emblematize the idea expressed by the motto of the Byzantine Emperor Philippicus Bardanes, “Fortuna cita reposcit, quae dedit” [Fortune quickly takes back what it has given]. He kept the student’s epigraph and poem unchanged except for one word. In the first line, the Jesuit wrote escas (the bait) instead of vas (the grapes). Hertenberger

did so because his engraving exhibits a different scene from the students painting, namely, a fox clasping a decoy prey in its mouth but whose own leg is caught in a trap, whilst a bird freely takes flight (see fig. 19).

It is interesting to note how this sis between the two emblems. The prosperity, which the student chose focuses more on Fortune itself, and

change is linked to a shift in emphasubject of the student’s emblem was to link to Fortune; but Hertenberger more specifically on “the games” that

57.

ΟΕ Ovid 1993, 12.93: “vidi etiam lacrimas (an pars est fraudis in illis?)” (333).

58.

The numbering of Aesop’s fables changes according to the edition. The fable

of “the Fox and the Grapes” is numbered sometimes 15, sometimes 32 (Aesop, 1970, 21-22; 1995, 54-55).

193

[Fortune’s games]) indicates. Although the two emblems are very close in

meaning, the emphasis on one or the other idea—prosperity or Fortune— leads either author to adopt a different approach. It is for this reason that the images display two different moments: the moment before misfortune occurs (that is, the moment when only a mirage of prosperity is experienced) and the painful aftermath of being caught out (when it has become

clear that Fortune rotates from happy to unhappy moments). Although other examples from Hertenberger’s History might be added, these two cases can be taken as representative of the changes made by Hertenberger to the manuscript emblems he selected from the Brussels affixiones. Far from denying the quality of the original emblems, Hertenberger’s adaptations are an endorsement, since he clearly considered the Brussels emblems good enough to be published.

How did the Jesuits gain access to the Brussels manuscripts? So far, this article has sought to demonstrate how, at the end of the seventeenth century and in the course of the eighteenth century, the emblems of the Brussels students received renewed interest from the Jesuits who ensured their circulation by means of various publications. This still leaves the ques-

tion of the ways in which Jesuits such as Boschius and Hertenberger gained

access to these manuscript emblems. Several sources suggest that in fact, copies of the Brussels commemorative volumes traveled within the Society of Jesus. In this respect, three pieces of evidence should be considered.

First, the French Jesuit Claude-François Ménestrier (1631-1705), that

famous theorist of symbolic genres, declared that he had seen the manu-

scripts of the Brussels emblematic exhibitions: “J’ay vû aussi plusieurs

Recueils de celles [i.e., les réceptions] qu'on a faites à Bruxelles durant plus de 30. ans pour la feste du S. Sacrement” [I have also seen several collections of the open days that have been organized in Brussels for over 30 years on the occasion of the feast of the Holy Sacrament] (125). It is unclear wheth-

er the French Jesuit consulted the originals in the Brussels college library on one of his frequent journeys abroad or whether he consulted copies that circulated within the Society. If Ménestrier had access to copies, it is not

possible to specify their number or their nature (were there complete or partial copies? with images or not?).

EMBLEMATICA

Grégory Ems

Such copies did indeed

2)

193 ) ER

SYMBOLUM

PHILIPPICE Fortuna cit repofeit , qua dedit.

Litulus: Fortunæ lutus.

de Keghel] is interesting because the illustrations have been replaced there

exist. For the exhibition of 1655, Porteman has found, in addition to the commemorative volume

(KBR 20.314), another manuscript. (KBR II

1785) chat appears to be

an incomplete high-quality replica displaying only

minor differences: for instance, in the commemorative volume, the frame surrounding the pictures is more elaborate than in

the copy, where it is reduced to a simple ellipse, while the picture of the

Lemma: Eft pars fraudis in illis.

EPIGRAMMA. Mimera fortune vulpes has autumnat αν. =

Queis tantian fraudes ee ΤΩΣ & ’ Pa. infitier Poe capiaris babent:

23. Tom.

ILL

Fig. 19. Conrad Hercenberger, Historia pragmatica Se (Frankfurt,

Munich.)

1765), 3:193. (© Bayerische Staatsbibliothek,

last emblem depicts two characters in one manuscript but only one in the

other.”

Porteman

also

dating

from

by short descriptive texts which at times allows a more detailed reading of the picturae” (Porteman 1996, 138). This proves that copies could be made quite easily, at a variable cost depending on the presence of the images or not. Moreover, the replacement of the images by brief descriptions, which gave only an idea of the main scene and did not always give a complete (or, we can imagine, faithful) account of them, can also explain some changes made by Hertenberger or Boschius. It is not my intention, however, to enter in more speculation about this here. A second consideration is that the Royal Library of Belgium preserves two manuscript collections of emblems produced by the students of the

Jesuit college of Courtrai in 1655, 1665, 1666, and 1671 (KBR 20.324 B

and 20.331 B). Among these collections—of a lower quality than their Brussels counterparts—an emblem designed in 1665 on the theme of the Eucharist imitates one produced by Balthasar Glabeys at the Brussels college in 1648. In both emblems, the illustration depicts a barrel that lets its contents leak out because its hoops have loosened or broken and its staves and ends no longer fit together tightly (see figs. 20 and 21). The parallel between the two epigrams leaves no doubt about the influence of the Brussels emblem on the Courtrai one: KBR 20.307, fol. 65r (Brussels) (fig. 20) Title: Opes discordia dilabuntur [Wealth is lost through discord]; Epigraph: Quid cumulasse iuvat? [How is amassing useful to you?] Poem: Vincula nexa tenent laticem divulsaque perdunt, Rimoso fugiunt fervida musta lacu. lungat amor populos, momento perditur horae, Quidquid opum concors accumularat amor.

gives the example of the emblems of the Brussels exhibitions

and

1659

1663,

i which

were copied by a student of τῆς college, Jacobus de

[Closely fitted bonds (i.e., barrel hoops) retain the liquid; when broken, they let it escape, and the fermenting wine spills out through the cracks. Love may bind people together, but, whatever riches concor-

Keghel, who atrended the 3

Poetics

|

AA

course

in

;

1664

(Porteman 1996, 138 and

dant love had accumulated, they are lost in a moment.|

144-46). We do not know how de Keghel proceeded. It is possible that he visited one of the two (or both) exhibition(s) (even if he was very young in 1659 and probably did not know Latin yet) but it is also likely that he relied on other copies. Be that as it may, as Porteman noticed, “the copy [ofJ. 59.

See Porteman (1996, 129; and, concerning the two manuscripts, 128-29).

195

KBR 20.324 B, fol. 57r (Courtrai) (fig. 21) Title: Gratia Sacramenti ex animo dissoluto cito excidit [The grace of the Sacrament quickly leaves a roaming mind] 60.

Concerning these, see Porteman 1996, 171-77.

τοῦς:

τε GNNA NAZ INI

TT

SEES d

gA

ek

re i ZI

EMBLEMATICA

196

een γος er

Grégory Ems

197

likely that he knew the Brussels emblem from this college. One must therefore admit a circulation of manuscripts between the gymnasium Bruxellense and the gymnasium Cortracense.

Finally, a reference from the catalog of the maior bibliotheca of the Brussels college corroborates the hypothesis of such a circulation of manuscripts among Jesuit college libraries. In the emblematic section of this catalog, there is a reference to an emblem book authored by the college of Oudenaarde (Collegii Aldenardensis) to celebrate the “jubilee” —very likely the fiftieth anniversary of his ordination—of Father Jacobus Stratius (Jacques van der Straeten, 1559-1634), who joined the Society in 1580

\T°

οἰ

ιν

μυγίαπα!

%

INFLUTT

EFFLUIT

Ν

and was, among province.® This Brussels library, either case, this

other offices, the provincial father of the Flandro-Belgian book was perhaps lent by the college of Oudenaarde to the unless it was a copy of an original kept in Oudenaarde.™ In reference of the catalog points to some kind of transfer or

exchange of emblem materials between Jesuit colleges.

Conclusion Fig. 20. Brussels, Royal Library of Belgium, ms. 20.307 (1648), fol. 64v (© Royal Library

of Belgium.)

Fig. 21. Brussels, Royal Library of Belgium, ms. 20.324 (Courtrai, 1665), fol. 57r.

(© Royal Library of Belgium.)

Epigraph:

Ur influit, efluit [As soon it has penetrated, it flows out]

Poem:

Vincula iuncta tenent latices distractaque perdunt. Rimoso fugiunt massica musta lacu.

|

Mens tibi distracta est? Momento prodigis horae, Non ita perdendum, quod bibis ore, merum. [The bonds, when joined together, retain the liquid; when they are undone, they let it escape. The Massican wine‘! spills out through the cracks. Is your mind too lax? You squander in an instant the wine you drink with your mouth and that should not be lost like this.]

|

Because of the chronological gap between the two compositions, it is doubtful that the Courtrai student could have attended the Brussels exhibition. Moreover, the Courtrai student probably neither visited the Brussels col-

lege library nor got access to the manuscript, since the access to the maior bibliotheca was very restricted (see Op de Beeck, 49-51). However, it is 61.

The evidence reviewed in this article unequivocally shows the unexpected longevity of the Brussels student emblems. Although these emblems were composed for a single event and remained in manuscript, some of them had a remarkable afterlife. Moreover, the Brussels manuscripts seem to have travelled quite easily within the Society of Jesus thanks probably to the loans between college libraries or between the members of the Society that were not unusual. This broad circulation of emblem books allowed both Jesuit fathers

and their unable to spiration posterity the result 62.

63.

In Antiquity, the slopes of Mount Massicus (in Campania) were famous for

their wine (Horace, p. 342, s.v. “Massique”; see also Horace, 1.1, 1. 19; 2.7, 1.21); and Vergil, Georgics, 2:357, n. 350).

64.

students to enjoy the emblems of the exhibitions that they were attend in person. Later, several Jesuit authors also drew further infrom selected student emblems, to which they gave a more certain than in manuscript form by publishing them in part or in full, with that student ephemera became a lasting part of the emblem corpus.

For the influence of the Courtrai emblems on those from the college of Brussels,

see Porteman 1996, 135: “[O]bviously ideas were exchanged between Jesuit colleges ... about the public affixiones” (see also 135, n. 4). KBR 4685, 306: Emblemata de Iubilaeo P[atris] Stratii, 4. Serica rubro; see Op

de Beeck, 84, n. 36, On Father Stratius, see De Backer and Sommervogel, vol. 8, col. 1627, s.v. “Stratius, Jacques”; and Poncelet 1931, 46, n. 6.

‘These are at any rate the assumptions of Op de Beeck (54).

Grégory Ems

EMBLEMATICA

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lesu, quibus accessit studio et opera eiusdem sylloge celebriorum sym-

bolorum in quatuor divisa classes sacrorum, heroicorum, ethicorum et satyricorum bis mille iconismis expressa, praeter alia totidem ferme symbola ordine suo fusius descripta cum suis rerum, figurarum et lemmatum indicibus. Augsburg, 1701.

Arbizzoni, Guido. “Imprese as Emblems: The European Reputation of an

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Aubert, R. “Hertenberger (Conrad).” In Dictionnaire d'histoire et de géo-

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Ballestra-Puech, Sylvie. Métamorphoses d'Arachné: l'artiste en araignée dans la littérature occidentale. Histoire des idées et critique littéraire 426. Geneva, 2006. Bencze, Lérant. “Function Oriented Iconography in Cultural Context. A Case Study.” In European Iconography East and West. Selected Papers of the Szeged International Conference. June 9-12, 1993, ed. Gyorgy E. Sz6nyi. Symbola et emblemata 7. Leiden, 1995. Pp. 63-76. Bersuire, Pierre. Reductorii moralis Petri Berchorii Pictaviensis Ordinis Divi Benedicti libri quatuordecim, perfectam officiorum atque morum rationem ac pene totam naturae complectentes historiam. Hoc opus quod iam vetustate consenuerat nova hac editione nostra in communem Sacrae Theologiae studiosorum gratiam restituimus et ab errori-

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De

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co Yr neta ht ii r ETT

AES

2

ON TO

EE

LE σον

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Emblematic Reading

|

Through Visual Commentary in an Early Sixteenth-Century Copy of Petrarch’

Ἢ:

ANDREA TORRE

i

Scuola Normale Superiore, Pisa

Hip

;

An interesting example of visualization of Petrarch’s Canzoniere is represented by a copy of Le cose volgari di Francesco Petrarca now at

'

Chatsworth House Library, which contains 174 small images establi-

shing a strong semantic relationship—comparable to that between

the emblem’s image and its motto—with the lines of 89 Petrarch

|

fragmenta. Some vignettes illustrate the content of Petrarch’s poems; some facilitate memorization, or suggest the interpretation of certain passages through τῆς creation of intertextual connections. In

|

some cases they also Participate in the creation of new poetry, which

i | LL

may later become the textual component of emblems. Bound together with the Aldine edition of the Canzoniere we have a very small

|

handwritten notebook containing sixteen stanzas strongly connected with the small images of the Aldine and with their fine visualization of Petrarch’s poetry.

| ΙΝ

Dado ἃ sus temas minüsculos, Graciän no vio la gloria y sigue resolviendo

jt

en la memoria laberintos, retruécanos y emblemas. (Jorge Luis Borges)

tu |

|

|

|

llustrations in the manuscript and printed versions of Petrarch’s Canzoniere generally took the form of illuminated vignettes marking

the two sections of the work (“Rime in vita” and “Rime in morte”), or

presenting a portrait of the author; other instances of illustration within the *

I am grateful to Sylvia Greenup and Elena Cappa for their precious help in the

composition of this essay.

207

Emblematica, Volume 21. Copyright © 2014 by AMS Press, Inc. All rights reserved.

20ὃ

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Andrea Torre

209

text may have served to portray the myths underlying the story that was being recounted or to highlight the poems in which “visions” and “transformations” were described. The scarcity and overall homogeneous nature of these images were a natural consequence of the illustrators’ adherence to the basic framework of events recounted in the Canzoniere, but also of the inherent difficulty in illustrating lyric poetry, whose very existence is predicated on the summoning of images not immediately perceptible at the literal level of the text and on the subjective imagining of those images that are present in it. This partly explains the paucity of surviving exemplars of Canzonieri accompanied by a structured set of illustrations relating to the individual poems. However, despite this apparent gap in “narrative” visual translation, as it were, the imagery and conceits contained in Petrarch’s Canzoniere provided the basis and inspiration for an entire repertoire of emblems that would later be exploited in different forms, from illuminated manuscripts and printed books to fresco cycles, coins and medallions, and so forth (see Trapp; Torre). This imagery was simultaneously codified in textual form in iconological treatises and dictionaries of epithets.' The popularity of emblems and imprese stemming from the Rerum Vulgarium Fragmenta was a result of the deeply symbolic nature of Petrarch’s language. The icastic richness of his poetic imagination effortlessly transforms into paradigm the private narrative of the poetic subject, thereby creating a space where poetic diction is transformed into conceptual discovery and where the song becomes an image. Petrarch’s language, in other words, succeeds over the course of time in presenting his readers’ imagination with a potential emblem that may be developed through different artistic forms and languages. An interesting example of the assimilation of the Canzoniere into a na-

“Sonetti in morte” are allotted only four illustrations each. On the margins of Trionfi we find only two pictures. All these images are probably the work of Vincent Raymond de Lodève (died 1557), a French miniaturist employed in the Sistine Chapel during the pontificates of Leo X and Paul III (which in 1549 called him “our illuminator for the Chapel and Sacristy,

scent emblematic mode of reading using images, not text, as the medium

2

of interpretation and composition can be found in a copy of Le cose volgari di Francesco Petrarca, in the edition printed on vellum by Aldus Manutius in 1514, originally belonging to the Medici family and now in the private collection of the Duke of Devonshire at Chatsworth House (Petrarch 1.

See Forster, 53: “Another way of actualising Petrarchan conceits was by embodying them in emblems. . . . The visual character of Petrarch’s imagery made its transposition into pictorial form extremely easy; the mottoes to the emblems are often taken from Petrarch’s sonnets. ... The influence of emblem books on poetic imagery in all languages from the late sixteenth century until well into the eighteenth is difficult to overstimate, and these books were the vehicles of petrarchism. ... It was in this form

that the emblem book survived longest, and petrarchistic imagery with it.”

1514). Bound in dark blue morocco by Nicolas Derome

in Paris (ca.

1780-90), this book was bought in a 1791 sale for 111 guineas by the second Earl Spencer and presented by him to his sister Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire. The volume appears to be a specially printed copy of the 1514 edition with typographical errors corrected and without the Aldine anchor and colophon. The Aldine copy contains the Canzoniere and the Trionft. This last work is illustrated by a series of full-page pictures, drawn in chiaroscuro on different colored leaves: green, blue, black, red, purple, and gold, one for each of the six Trionfi. As Joseph B. Trapp has pointed out, the pictures illustrating the Trionfi can be seen as parallel, though on a smaller scale, to some pages in two manuscripts of the Canzoniere and Trionfi, both in the hand of Bartolomeo Sanvito and with a slightly earlier date than the Chatsworth copy (see Trapp 2001, 88). The Chatsworth Petrarca also presents two fully illuminated frontispieces, one at the beginning of the book and the other preceding the Trionfi, drawn in color with gold and silver to simulate antique cameos. In what follows, I will concentrate my attention on the margins of the Chatsworth Canzoniere, where the relationship between 174 small images and the lines of 89 Petrarch fragmenta seems comparable to that which is established between the emblem’s image and its motto. While the first part, the “Sonetti in vita,’ presents a significant number of pictures (170), the

Il Petrarca | Venice, Aldus, 1514], 184, [24] c., 8vo, italic type, printed on vellum, a2v (blank) with full-page decoration, that page and facing page a3r with solid gilt

border with floral decoration and silver portrait roundels, small marginal illustrations throughout, s8v (blank) with full-page decoration, that page and facing page

tir with red and blue border with green roundels, t3v with green illustration, u5v with blue illustration, x1v with black illustration, x8v with red illustration, z1v with

purple illustration, z4v with brown illustration, each of these colored illustrations marking the start of each Zriumphus, four contemporary manuscript leaves at end containing “Nove imprese et stramboti” by Eurialo Asolano with green silk wrap-

pers lettered in gilt, eighteenth-century blue morocco by Derome le Jeune, with his ticket, elaborately gilt with arms of the Mayzieu, later red morocco pull-off case with

monogram “SD.” Bibliographic informations can be found also in the catalog The Devonshire Inheritance (Barker, 256-58, no. 144).

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EMBLEMATICA

Andrea Torre

for life”; see Alexander, 238-42, nn. 127, 129, 130; and Saffiotti Dale). Although they cannot absolutely be categorized as emblems or imprese, their role is not that of mere textual illustration. They seem, rather, to refect an intermediate stage in the transition from one mode of visualization to another, to the extent that every page may be regarded as a “snapshot” of the compositional process. These pictures were at first conceived as literal illustrations, but the idea of converting them into imprese soon developed. A thin gold line connects each illustration to a specific line of the poem, and in most cases, the image provides a visual elaboration of other verses belonging to the same fragmentum. What occurs, therefore, is the translation of a portion of the text (the source) into a visual image that in its turn is associated with another line of the same text (the morto).’ We might even go as far as to describe the printed page as a desktop on which the anonymous emblematist-illuminator arranges his various materials and experiments with the composition of different emblems." In the margin of poem 50 of Petrarch’s Canzoniere, for example, we see the image of a swan alighting on a body of water; a golden line connects the image to line 52: “fine non pongo al mio obstinato affanno” [I put no end

En afpetto penfofo anima lteta Raccolto ha’nqufta donna al fuo pianeta;

Anji l re de le ftelle2° l nero bonore, Le degne lode ,e’l gran pregto,e’l ualore; Ch’e da flancar ognt diuin poeta.

Amor σ᾽ ὃ in Lei con honeflate agguento,

Con belta naturale babrto adorno,

Et wn atto,che parla con filentio; Et non fo che ne aliocchi ;che?n wm

Po for chiara la notte ofcuro il grorne,

E’Lmel amaro,& addolcir Vaffentio.

Tutto'l di piango ser poi la notte quando

Prendon ripofo ennfert mortali, Troxon’in pianto ex raddopp arftimalis

Cofi fpendo’| mio tempo lagrimando.

to my obstinate trouble]. This sylvan image, a visualization of the theme of

In trifto bimor #0 2lrocchi confimando,

sunset, alludes to the twilight peacefulness evoked in the first part of each 3.

4.

211

ΕἾ cor im doglia & fon fra ghammalt

More closely comparable to the setting of this volume may be a thirteenth-century manuscript in the Pierpont Morgan Library containing a collection of troubadour songs accompanied by a visual commentary (Chansonnier N). On this illuminated manuscript, see Huot and Nichols.

L’ulhmo fi,che gliamorofi ftrali Mitenzon adoombor di pace in bando.

Lajfo,che pur da l’uno a l’altro fole,

My analysis of this exemplar of Petrarch’s Cose volgari in the present article aims to investigate the problem of the inevitable reduction to literalness implied by the illustration of lyric poetry: when illustrating a written work, the images of lyric poetry seem to be penalized more severely than those of prose, the artist being reduced to producing a literal interpretation of the pictures created in the author’s imagination. In their attempt to circumvent this fundamental difficulty, illustrators sometimes opted for a literal rendering of the symbolic system displayed by the text (through metaphors, allegories, myths, and so on, depicted for what they are rather than for what they are

Et da l’un’ombra a Valera ho gra’l pincorfe Di qiefta morte ;che fi chiama mita. Pise l’altriti fillo chel mi’ mal mi dole: Che picts ie” mio fido foccorfo

: |

ἐν "

,

W, |

| | j

Vedemr arder nel foco;€ non ait

meant to represent in a specific context); in other instances, the graphic translation

Gis defiai confi grefta quenla, ;

became a very free adaptation of the verbal texture of the verses, which shows more than what is actually described or alluded to. In what follows, I will also deal with one of the key questions in the rethinking of print culture, that is to say, the continuing

E’n fr fermde rime farm udin;

i

existence of cultures of the manuscript, or, more precisely, the issue of the personaliza-

tion of a print text through handmade annotations (in both text and image form). Annotations like these free the text from its serial nature, thus liberating it from the uniformity and the depersonalization that characterize typographic printing.

Fig.

1. Francesco

Petrarca, Le cose volgari di messer Francesco Petrarcha

(Venice,

1514), 87v. (© Devonshire Collection, Chatsworth. Reproduced by permission of Chatsworth Settlement Trustees.)

212

EMBLEMATICA

stanza.’ The image is directly linked, however, to a motto that expresses the poet's free choice and steadfast refusal to accept such a state of peacefulness for himself, as he repeatedly states at the end of each stanza.° We may observe how the line that has been selected as the motto encapsulates the dramatic core of the poem (and of the Canzoniere as a whole) and, at the same time, how the gnomic terms in which it is formulated allow it to stand on its own, independent of the text. Of a similar nature is the vignette placed in the margin of sonnet 216. The central theme of the poem (weeping as the primary and absolute condition of the lover) is visualized in correspondence to line 4 (“cosi spendo il mio tempo lagrimando” [thus I spend my time weeping]) as a male figure whose lower body has turned to flint (an

encrypted detail for man’s Petrarchan nature) and who holds in his hand a light blue cloth (either a metonymic detail signifying tears or a fetish for Laura, whose person always appears veiled to his view). In correspondence to the final verse (“védem’ arder nel foco, e non m'aita” [see me burn in

9.

the fire and do not aid me]) there appears a robes, who observes a burning fire; here, the figure and the line containing the explicit is golden line, but by the largest of the fire logs

female figure, dressed in green trajectory between the human marked, not by the customary (fig. 1).

Petrarch 1514, poem 50, pp. 116-20, IL. 1-2: “Ne la stagione che Ἰ ciel rapido inchina / verso occidente, e che Ἰ di nostro vola .. ” [At the time when the swift heaven inclines toward the West and our day flies to people who perhaps await it . . .]; Il. 15-16; “Come ’l sol volge le ‘nfiammate rote / per dar luogo a la notte, onde dis-

cende / dagli altissimi monti maggior l’ombra” [When the sun turns his flaming wheels to give place to night and the shadows descend more widely from the highest mountains . . .]; IL 29-30: “Quando vede ’l pastor calare i raggi / del gran pianeta

al nido oy’egli alberga” [When the shepherd sees the rays of the great planet falling toward the nest where it dwells]; |. 46: “perché s'attufh in mezzo l'onde .. ? [he dives into the midst of the wave .. .] (emphasis added; for the English, I have used Durl-

ing’s translation of the Canzoniere throughout this article). 6.

Petrarch 1514, poem 50, pp. 116-20, IL. 12-13: “Ma, lasso, ogni dolor che 1 di m'adduce / cresce qualor s'invia” | Bus, alas, whatever pain the day brings me grows

when the eternal light moves to depart from us .. .]; ll. 25-28: “Ma chi vuol si rallegri ad ora ad ora / ch’i’ pur non ebbi ancor, non dirò lieta / ma riposata un’ora, / né per volger di ciel né di pianeta” [Bur let who will be gay from time to time: for I have

never had, 1 shall not say a happy, but a restful hour, for all the turning of sky or planet. . .]; IL 39-40: “Ahi crudo Amor, ma tu allor pit / mi ’nforme a seguir d’una fera che mi strugge” [Ah cruel Love! But you then most shape me 20 pursue the voice and the steps and the footprints of a wild creature . . .] (emphasis added). On this

Petrarchan poem, see Folena, 290-312; and Albonico.

Andrea Torre

213

In both cases, the mottos underlined are at once specific and generic and therefore can be used to translate a highly personal story into an exemplary and universal one. By giving visual form to poetic metaphor, the marginalia reflect an impulse toward an allegorical reading of the songs. The manuscript pictures placed next to the poems condense their subject and redirect the readers attention back to the words: they focus on the poetic image and force the gaze onto the text so that it may be understood and memorized. Furthermore, the recurrence of certain iconographic themes with hardly any variation leads the reader to establish intertextual connections between fragmenta that are at quite a distance from each other. One instance of this is the representation of the fight between predator and prey, which visualizes a constitutive element of Petrarch’s poetry as well as a central theme of courtly Petrarchism. One recurring image, for example, represents a falling elephant crushing a snake that has wound its way up the elephant's legs. This image, which often appears in collections of emblems and imprese, serves to represent a presumptuous action, as it shows how the snake, by placing excessive confidence in its cunning and certain that it will immobilize the larger animal, does not consider the possibility that the elephant may fall. This conceit appears twice in close succession (be-

tween pages 4v and 6r), thereby establishing an emblematic relationship with fragmenta 7 and 13. Next to the latter there can be seen a gray elephant threatened by a white snake whose body is wound about a plant. The elephant’s trunk is connected to line 14 (“si ch’io vo gia de la speranza altero” [so that already I go high with hope]) by means of the customary golden line, which, as I have previously noted, associates the image and the motto of the developing impresa. At the margin of fragmentum 7 there appears the image of a red-winged dragon with a long twisted tail in the act of seizing an elephant; here the golden line has its origin in the dragon’s wings and is joined to the sonnet at line 4 (“nostra natura vinta dal costume” [our nature, conquered by custom]). The struggle between the two symbolic animals enacts the reflection on man’s destiny developed in poem 7. Voluptas (1. 1: “La gola e l sonno e loziose piume” [Gluttony and sleep and the pillows of idleness]) and cupiditas (1. 11: “. .. la turba al vil guadagno intesa” [... the mob, bent on low gain]) “hanno del mondo ogni virtu sbandita” [have banished from the world all virtue] and have diverted “our nature” (i.e., the wise elephant) from its proper path toward the good through bad habits (“custom,” that is, the snake). To these, Petrarch

214

EMBLEMATICA

Andrea Torre Another

theme

La gola,e"l fonno ,& l’ottofé pirune Hanno del mondo ont wernt [ bandita,

Ond? è dal corfo fo quafi [marrita Noftra nanera nant a dal coftume: Et e fi ffento opm bem gno lume iL Del ciel pet cae s'informa humana sity

Che per cofimerabile s*addita Chi sol far d*Heltcona najcer fume.

Qual uaghez {4 di las, qual di mirto?

Poxera & nuda mat philojupbia, Dice La mrba al ταὶ zitdagno intefa. Pochi compa gui haurat per Calera mias Tanto ἢ prego pur genhle [pirto Non lafiar La magnanuna ma impreft. A pie d’e colli one La Fella wefta

Pref de le terrene membra pria

-

@|

La donma,che coli cha te 'emua,

Caaldn Ant frivieaitaninnasdn deft.

Fig. 2. Francesco Petrarca, Le cose volgari di messer Francesco Petrarcha (Venice, 1514), 4v. (© Devonshire Collection, Chatsworth. Reproduced by permission of Chatsworth

Settlement Trustees.)

opposes “the other way” of liberal studies. The symbolic transposition of the poetic message takes place in the margins of the Aldine edition, where a silent but eloquent depiction of the pars destruens of Petrarch’s polemic (the allegory of nature subdued by vice) is followed by a more optimistic pars costruens, which portrays a similar monster and a crocodile-like creature sinking its teeth into the monster's breast. From this beast’s mouth a golden line connects the image to the explicit verse “Non lassar la magnanima tua impresa” [Do not abandon magnanimous undertaking]. This

line therefore potentially becomes the motto of a symbolic expression composed, on the one hand, by Petrarch’s text, and on the other, by the iconic rewriting carried out by its reader-interpreter; it is chosen as the most suitable verse to form an impresa summarizing the overall meaning of the text, an impresa that (according to the usual definition of the genre) assumes the shape of a resolution or life project for its owner (fig. 2).

recurring

is that of meta-

morphosis,

which

key importance

LajJo,che mul accorto fid da prima

is of

in erotic

thetoric and at the very core of Petrarch’s poetry. Among the illustrations of the Chatsworth Petrarca, we find both vegetable and animal metamorphoses of human figures, as well as anthropomorphic animal figures. From this point

of view, the image linked to line 8 of sonnet 65 is 5

particularly

A

spider

in

interesting.

female

dress

is seen working at a loom

215

Fal is

{|

Nel giorno ch’a ferir mi weme amores Cha palo a paffo εἰ poi fattofi De vs utd, ὧν im fis ‘ie ì

Ronon credea per for Fa di fia lima, Che punto di fermez7 40 diualore

Manca[fe mat ne l’indurato core: “Ma cofi ua,chi fupra’l wer Seflima. * Da hora inan 7i ogni difefa è tarda i

Altra,che dipronar,s’affaiopoco Quefti preghi mortali amore fgm’ifi l Non prego ia ne puote haner puloco, è

Che miferamente il mio cor ardd, e Ma che fina parte babbia coflei del foc P

_.

Fig. 3. Francesco

Petrarca,

Le cose volgari

ἈΠΕdi messer :

Francesco Petrarcha (Venice, 1514), 29v. (© Devonshire Collection, Chatsworth. Reproduced

Chatsworth Settlement Trustees. )

by permission of

(fig. 3). The image is most probably an illustration of the Ovidian myth of Arachne, which often turns up in manuscripts and printed editions of the Metamorphoses. It appears, for example, in a vignette that bears a very close resemblance to the one in the Chatsworth Aldine, in the fourteenth-century codice Panciatichiano 63 in the Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale of Florence, which contains the volgarizzamento of Ovid's poem by Arrigo Simintendi, dating from around 1330 (fig. 4; see Lazzi). The famous weaver Arachne challenged Minerva by covering her canvas with beautifully embroidered love scenes between gods and mortals. Driven to fury by this offense and envious of the maiden’s talent, Minerva destroyed the canvas and turned Arachne into a spider (see Barkan; Barolini; Harries; and Cherchi). Arachne’s act of pride is here associated with a verse expressing the same concept (Petrarch 1514, 65, 8: “but so he goes who esteems himself too highly”).

This is not the only instance where Petrarch explicitly draws a parallel between Arachne and the lover. Just as Arachne had the effrontery to challenge a goddess (and after winning the contest was punished for her daring), the lover-protagonist of the Canzoniere, through his certainty that his value will

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le Attività Culturali; all rights reserved.)

resist Love’s temptations,’ becomes guilty of pride. The intriguing element that emerges in the Chatsworth Petrarca is that, although text 65 makes no explicit reference to the Arachne myth, the illustrator recognized the link between the sin of pride condemned in the verses and its habitual visu-

alization (both in the literary tradition and in Petrarch) by means of the

Arachne story and decided, as it vignette. One result of this choice ences to the myth in other parts imprudent self-confidence is also enterprise” of the soul that leaves

were, to “comment” on the text with this is that it implicitly points to explicit referof the Canzoniere. For example, the same criticized in sonnet 173, where the “bold the body to reach Laura's eyes is linked to

Petrarch 1514, sonnet 65, p. 142, IL 1-8: “Lasso, che mal accorto nel giorno ch’a ferir mi venne Amore, / ch'a passo a passo è poi fatto mia vita, e posto in su la cima. / Io non credea per forza di sua lima fermezza o di valore / mancasse mai ne l’indurato core; / ma cosi va,

fui da prima / signore / de la / che punto di chi sopra ‘l ver

s'estima” [Alas, l was little wary at first, the day when Love came to wound me, who step

by step has become lord of my

life and sits at che summit! J did not believe that by the

power of his file any bit of strength or worthiness

would fail in my hardened heart, but so

he goes who esteems himself too highly] (emphasis added).

46

Proverbio,ama chit ama e fitto antica.

Ioben quel, cb'io dico. bor Laÿfa andares

sual connections between

— Checonten cb’altri impanea le fie jefe.

contiguous

"Sema a noncominciaretroppalte wnprefés

texts : that often are ’ nor jguabiné donne game nn dolcedimico, ficonofce al fico.a me pur pare contribute

to displaying some: of the Eperognpafetbonefiorza. pit L’infinta fbermmza occide attrui:

VE

that run parallel to and

ἢ

Canzoniere’s reading paths : a :

$ panch*to ful cleane woltain dupe. Quel poco,che n°a:anrza :}

ESS

intertwine with Petrarch | ymifido colutche'l mondo reaye,

volgarizzamento by Arrigo Simintendi), Ρ. 48v. (By permission of the Ministero per i Benie

217

eS

|

poetic narrative. τὰ τὶ In certain instances, the symbolic images also 4 Sie — as a herògloss on à the text. A meneutical approach to the Petrarchan text, 5) for

nel bofes alberga; Bk Ἐ εἰ conε feguact Che pietofifratmerga | Mimenispafcohomaltrale fie gregge. |Ferfcb'ognibuomhelegge nonstinrendes Et larete tal tende che non prylis: ΠΑΡΌΣΟΝ |Î Pey Soxliagoppalutegze on'altriazende. bene fiar fi fecnde molte miglia. à Talper gran meraiztia,e> pot βτεχζα. τ Fig.p< 5. To. Francesco Petrarca, Le cose

illustrations in the margin

Collection, Chatsworth. Reproduced by permission of

example, characterizes the ©

volgari di messer Francesco Petrarcha (Venice, 1514), 46r. (© Devonshire Chatsworth Settlement Trustees.)

of fragmentum 105 (fig. 5). Two of these, which represent the mythological story of Phaethon, may be effectively described as small pictures. The usual graphic sign connects them, respectively, to line 36 (“senno a non cominciar tropp alte imprese” [it seems to me prudent not to begin undertakings that are too difficult]) and line 42 (*T mi fido in Colui che 1 mondo regge” [I rely on Him who rules the world]), that is to say, to moral statements that denounce Phaethon's

vain arrogance. Between the two pictures may be seen another illustration, 8.

Petrarch 1514, sonnet 173, p. 318: “Mirando Ἰ sol de’ begli occhi sereno, / ove è chi spesso I miei depinge e bagna, / dal cor l’anima stanca si scompagna / per gir nel paradiso suo terreno. / Poi trovandol di dolce e d’amar pieno, / quant’al mondo si tesse, opra d’aragna / vede: onde seco e con Amor si lagna, / ch’ha si caldi gli spron, si duro ‘I freno. . . . ma pochi lieti, e molti penser tristi, / e ] più si pente de l'ardite imprese: / tal frutto nasce di cotal radice” [Gazing at the clear sun of her lovely eyes, where there is one who often makes mine red and wet, my weary soul leaves my heart

for its earthly paradise; then, finding it so full of sweetness and bitterness, it sees that

whatever is woven in the world is cobwebs, and it complains to Love, whose spurs are so hot, whose bit is so hard .. . but few happy thoughts and many sad ones: mostly it

repents of its bold enterprise, such fruit is born from such a root] (emphasis added).

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EMBLEMATICA

Andrea Torre which

is linked

τὸ

line

39 (“e anch’io fui alcuna

volta in danza” [and I too have sometimes joined the

dance}) and which represents a naked man partially turned to stone; the im-

À Bolle’

at del mnorecele

reer nob Md

nifin afte

γα

ἰδὲ

NN

/

dp

betel splat

mi rileia

Pree! &sasture ὁ Licrymr chi» bre ΤᾺ Cosi per hi ὑπ

τισι

che att

Chechi polar ἰὼ cade ‘eve pis

Fig. 6. San Daniele del Fiuli, Biblioteca Guarneriana, ms. 139 (Petrarch, Rime e Trionfi). (By permission of

the Ministero per i Beni ¢ le Artivita Culturali; all rights

may

be useful

ding light on

‘

Et dif ombrata gia dinenei Ροροὶ

in shed-

the differ-

À Now wide il mondo fi leggiadrirami,

ent setting employed by the illustrator of the

sto. / Fetonte odo che’n Po

as the mythological narra- |

cadde, e morio” [As much as I can, I disentangle myself and stand free; ques I hear that Phaethon

fell in the

Po and died]). These lines,

together with the relevant motto, not only clarify the parallelism between Petrarch and the mythological character, but con-

note the poet's passion for

reserved.) Laura as evidence of arrogance punishable with death. Just as Phaethon believed he could safely drive Phoebus’s chariot but was struck down by Zeus when he flew too close to the earth, so the protagonist of the Canzoniere had the presumption of coming too close to (that is falling in love with) the woman who was the first among women (who shines like the sun), and through this impossible pas-

sion, he was fatally burned. The parallelism, however, may also indicate that it is the rebellious act described in poem 105—the poet-lover’s presumptuous belief that he will zor give in to love—that is seen as arrogant. In both cases, the poet’s love is associated with the sin of pride. The same moralized interpretation of the love story between Petrarch and Laura may be found in a sumptuously illuminated manuscript of the Rime e Trionfi (fig. 6) with

illustrations and friezes datable to ca. 1480 by Bartolomeo Sanvito (ms. 139 in the Biblioteca Guarneriana in San Daniele del Fiuli; see Maddalo). Here

the illustration of Phaethon’s myth is deployed to represent the death of

Chatsworth

Aldine.

Just

tion constitutes a quote, a

secondary

narration

that

runs parallel to Petrarch’s ‘ : : lyric confession—and, in the same way ss pce

10,

appears to be a heterogeneous and unclear collection of quotes—so the

A la dolce ombra de le belle frondi Corfi fire gendo al difpietato lume, Che’n fin qua gin m’ardea dal ter Yo ciele Laura amorofa,che rinotux il tempo; Et fioridn per le pigge l’herbe e i roni.

age finds its textual source in lines 19-20 (“quanto

posso mi spetro, e sol mi

Cheeuedende.oone grerne il fy pal ty mile are rag) ΝΡ,

Laura and marks the beginning of the second part of the Canzoniere. The analogy between Petrarch and Phaethon

219

Ne moffe”luento mai fi werdi frondi; Come a me frmoftrar quel primo tempo; Tal,che temendo de Uardente hone Non wolfi al mio refitgio ombre di poggi, Ma de la pianta pix qrsdita in cielo. Vin Laur mi diffefe allhor dal cielo; Onde pin nolte uazo de bei rami

Dat po fon gito per felue ex per poggi: Fig. 7. Francesco

Petrarca,

Le

cose volgari di messer

Frincesco Petrarcha (Venice, 1514), 65v. (© Devonshire Collection, Chatsworth. Reproduced by permission of Chatsworth Settlement Trustees. )

golden frame and the naturalistic background characterize the illustrations of Phaethon’s story as artificial images that refer to another reality, another narration. The difference between framed and unframed vignettes would therefore be one of status. As the story from Ovid is a quotation, the illustrator represents it as a picture, thereby underscoring its fictionality, whereas in the majority of cases, the subjects of the vignettes are presented without background or frame—a possible indication of the fact that they refer, without further literary mediation, to the narrative content of the Canzoniere. This mechanism that foregrounds an intertextual connection between a fragmentum and another Petrarchan text that does not belong to the Canzoniere may again be seen at work in the margin of sestina 142, where the same golden frame this time contains the image of Eros captured and beaten by a group of women (fig. 7). With both philological precision and hermeneutical awareness, the illustrator here visually translates the content of Triumphus Pudicitiae, lines 115-41: Passo qui cose 8gloriose e magne ch'io vidi e dir non oso; a la mia donna

DESDE

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220

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Andrea Torre

EMBLEMATICA vengo et allaltre sue minor compagne. Ell’avea in dosso, il di, candida gonna, lo scudo in man che mal vide Medusa.

221

ΣᾺΝ

U,

o deftina:

D'un bel diaspro er’ ivi una colonna,

I’ non poria le sacre e benedette vergini ch'ivi fur chiudere in rima, non Calliope e Clio con l’altre sette; ma d’alquante dird che ’n su la cima son di vera onestate; infra le quali Lucrezia da man destra era la prima, l’altra Penelopé: queste gli strali

Leggiadria fingular es pellegrina;

El cantar che ne Panama fi fentes

\¥

=

Landay celefte,o7l ua 20 fpirto drdente,

ἐζ

Ch ogni dur rompe& ognidltezfa inchind je Et que begliocchi,che i cor fanmo fnalt Sa Poffenti a vifcliarcer abiffo ex notti,

avean spezzato ς la faretra a lato

a quel protervo, e spennachiato l’ali. Verginia appresso e l fero padre armato

Ἐξ torre l’alme a corpi,ex darle altrui; Col dir pien d’intelletti dolci es alti; (οἱ {ffir foaremisnte roth :

poi le Tedesche che con aspra morte servaron lor barbarica onestate.””

(Petrarch 1988, Triumph of Chastity, I. 115-41)

Da quel must trasformato fé.

A triumphant Laura, the personification of Chastity, is seen raging against

the mischievous boy. Here the detail of the crown of flowers and the setting

of the scene itself remind us of the iconography of the fight between Eros and Anteros, with which the image shares semantic similarities. This theme,

moreover, enjoyed great popularity in the emblem tradition, as testified by

Alciati’s emblem “Anteros, id est, amor virtutis” (on the Merril; Comboni; Arbizzoni; and Lucioli.) The figure followed by a woman killing herself with a sword and holding a cloth in her hand (“The dexter wing the fair 9.

myth of Anteros, see of Laura-Pudicizia is by another woman Lucretia led, / With

In Boyd’s translation: “A sweet but humbler subject may suffice / To muster in my song her fair allies; / But first, her arms and vesture claim my song / Before I chant the fair attendant throng:— / A robe she wore that seem'd of woven light; The buckler of Minerva filld her right, / Medusa’s bane; a column there

was drawn / ... / Not all the choir of Aganippe’s spring / The pageant of the

sisterhood could sing: / But some shall live, distinguished in my lay, / The most illustrious of the long array.— / The dexter wing the fair Lucretia led, / With her, who, faithful to her nuptial bed / Her suitors scorn'd: and these with dauntless hand / The quiver seiz'd, and scatter'd on the strand / The pointless arrows, and the broken bow / Of Cupid, their despoil'd and recent foe. / Lovely Virginia with her sire was nigh: /.../ Then the Teutonic dames, a dauntless race, / Who rush’d on death to shun a foe’s embrace” (Petrarch 1807, 103-5).

86v. (© Devonshire Collection, Chatsworth. Reproduced by permission of Chatsworth

Settlement Trustees.)

her, who, faithful to her nuptial bed / Her suitors scorn'd”); in the second row, a third woman with a pensive expression appears (“Lovely Virginia’);

and in the background, two more women, one of them hanged (represent-

ing most probably the synthesis of the two “Teutonic dames, a dauntless

race, / Who rush’d on death to shun a foe’s embrace”). The primary conceptual core of the second #riumphus is the revenge on Eros taken by those who lost their lives in the name of chastity. By representing these women as part of a visual comment on a fragmentum of Canzoniere, the Aldine illustrator seems to create (or underline) a se-

mantic connection between the two texts by Petrarch; more specifically,

he interprets the conversion project of the poet-agens described in fragmentum 142 as an extreme token of faithfulness toward the beloved. The essence of this token is well summarized by Giovanni Boccaccio’s formula “Amor vuol fé” [Love needs fidelity] (22, ll. 1-9 and 22-25), which is

222

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| |

|

il

ἣν

] | | if

EMBLEMATICA

reproduced in a famous engraving by Baccio Baldini (or more by a member of his workshop) whose iconographical subject sembles that in the Chatsworth vignette: Eros appears tied τὸ punishment and deprived of his wings by four women, one of

Andrea Torre

probably closely reἃ tree as a whom has

the motto “Love needs fidelity” embroidered on her dress (see Warburg;

Dempsey 163-72).

The visual interpretation of the text, however, is not always so subtle; in

some cases, τῆς pairing off of images and verses is based simply on the fact

that the images represent important emblems of love and the verses, while not among Petrarch’s best, are among those that best encapsulate the key formulas of the lyrical genre of love poetry. An explicit example is offered by sonnet 213, which affords mottoes for eight separate figures that can be easily translated into emblems (86y; see fig. 8).

ἢ

‘

" |

| h

ΙΗ Hs i} | |!

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of Laocoën (see Maffei; Leibundgut; and Loh). Of great interest, too, are

his Stanze sopra limpresa dellaquila, which were written to celebrate the

Tunisian enterprise of 1535 and presented to Emperor Charles V in 1543:

a codex in the Albertina Library in Vienna (ms. 2660) contains a version of this text richly illustrated with miniatures by Giulio Clovio, further proof

of Morani’s interest in the word-image nexus and of his developing rela-

characteristic of the illustrations of the Chatsworth Perrarca. It cannot be said that the vignettes of this Canzoniere merely illustrate the content of Petrarch’s poems, or that they act exclusively to facilitate the memorizing of certain passages through the creation of intertextual connections. What

as its title a line taken from the Petrarchan text. Next to each title, the au-

of lines and imagery, or that their function is to suggest the interpretation

|"

Vita disperata in ottava rima (see Baldoncini), and a collection of Stanze

sopra vari soggetti, among which is a very detailed ekphrasis on the statue

tionships with prominent artists during his years in Rome (on this manuscript, see Gasparotto). According to the scant biographical information we have, Aurelio Morani was a skilled draftsman who decorated a manuscript of Petrarch’s Canzoniere with emblems (see Debenedetti; Crimi). There is no surviving trace of this document, but the handwritten appendix of the Chatsworth Petrarca confirms his interest both in the dynamics of the symbolic elaboration of Petrarch’s imagery per se and in the actual production of those emblems that are implicitly contained in the lyric writing of the Canzoniere.

The illustration of this sonnet allows me to introduce another important

i

223

The added manuscript contains sixteen stanzas, each of which presents

these vignettes do is contribute to the creation of new poetry, which may later become the textual component of emblems. At the end of the Chatsworth Petrarca is to be found a very small notebook made up of four leaves of vellum and bound together with the Aldine edition of the Canzoniere. The four leaves are preceded and followed by a title page and an end page written in gilt letters on green silk, which probably constituted the original binding of the manuscript. On these leaves i there are sixteen stanzas written in the el-

thor states the number of the page of the Aldine edition where we find the fragmentum relevant to the line. Immediately after the title, we are given information about the character who is the symbolic subject visually represented on that page and who is in fact the speaker of the stanza; finally, we have the stanza itself, in which the last line repeats the already-selected line by Petrarch. Two examples, both taken from the above-mentioned sonnet 213, will serve to clarify this point: the phoenix, linked to the first line,

Farnese Golden Hours (1546, NY, Pierpont Morgan Library, ms. M.69). The sixteen stanzas are prefaced by a frontispiece representing a scroll of

to few], and the eagle, linked to line 2, “rara virtù, non gia d’ humana gente [Virtues rare beyond the custom of men]:

egant cancelleresca formata hand of Francesco da Monterchi, the scribe of the

parchment incorporating the title “Nove Imprese et Strambotti di messer

Euriali Ascul[ano]” | ‘ | “ ì Aurelio Morani de’ Guiderdocchi of Ascoli (1485-1554) was a typical figure of early sixteenth-century Petrarchism who worked at the court of Leo X and in the Sienese circle of Piccolomini and Tolomei. He is men-

tioned by Pietro Aretino, Benvenuto Cellini, and Annibal Caro and was celebrated by Girolamo Ruscelli for the wittiness of his imprese and his pithy

mottoes. His literary output consists of two volumes of Latin epigrams, a

«

.

5

ee

R

+

Grazie cha pochi il ciel largo destina”

c.86r

»

{Graces that generous Heaven allots

Grazie cha pochi il ciel largo destina

| ; Parla la Fenice al Sao ido al porer Chi suo s Geet dott? ?

E chi more e rinasce e vive sola? Chi nel collo e ne l’ali ha li ostri e li ori? E chi tanta beltà dal cielo invola? Chi con sue penne fa si bei lavori?

E chi pel almo ciel s‘altera e vola?

|

|

|

Andrea Torre

EMBLEMATICA Se non io, ch'aggio in me si pelegrina Grazia, ch’a pochi il ciel largo destina."” Rara virtu non gia d humana gente Parla lAquila Ogn'altro uccel non rest'alla gran luce Della superna e rutilante spera

Che Ἰ ciel in terra lume non produce,

Ch'abbia si ferma vista, e tant’altera. Sol da fisare il sol in me riluce, E non in altr’uccel, né in huom, né in fera.

Ché certo alberga nel mio lume ardente Rara virtù, non gia d’humana gente.!!

Here we may observe a process involving four steps: (1) the author first

reads one of Petrarch’s fragmenta; (2) he then selects one of its verses; (3) he

associates this verse with an image that illustrates and/or interprets the con-

tent of the fragmentum; and (4) finally, this image is dynamized, its icono-

graphical subject now also becoming a grammatical subject, the speaker ofa new text, which serves also as a mnemonic aid for Petrarch’s poetry. Despite the hermeneutical intensity of these illustrations, each one may be ideally detached from the page of the printed text and reworked into a variety of different artistic forms in a variety of different contexts (handwritten or printed; textual, visual or material; mental or real). These new and different creations will nevertheless preserve not only the force of Petrarch’s poetry that they originally illustrated but also the memory of the specific verse to which they were connected. In order to better understand the new symbolic functions of the Petrarchan text in all these forms, we should assume 10.

11.

“Graces that generous Heaven destines but to a few / The Phoenix speaks. / Who brings to the nest such rich perfumes? / And who dies and is reborn and lives alone? / Who in its neck and in in its wings bears the crimson and the gold? / And who steals such beauties from the sky? / Who with its feathers such goodly works performs? / And who in the high heavens proudly flies? / If not 1 who have in me such a rare / Grace as generous Heaven destines but to a few” (my translation). “Rare virtue which does not belong to common mortals. / The Eagle speaks. / No

other bird resists the great light / of the supreme and resplendent star / Because the

heavens have not produced on earth / an eye endowed with such a firm and proud sight. / A sun capable of looking at the sun shines in me / Alone and in no other bird or man or beast on earth / For sure there is housed in my burning light / Rare virtue

which does not belong to common mortals” (my translation).

225

that the Canzoniere, together with and by means of its printed tradition, became a stable component of a collective cultural memory.'? Each of the examples discussed here reflects a specifically Renaissance approach to the reading of Petrarch’s work, a kind of “reminiscing cogitation” in which the images, as expressions of the amplificatio, are engaged with the dimension of the exargeia, that is, the text’s connection to the chain consisting of “perception-imagination-memory-invention.” As analytical descriptions of an idea obtained through abstract visual elements, each of which takes on a specific meaning, the illustrations of the Chatsworth Petrarca would therefore appear to offer an escape route from the stalemate involving, on the one hand, those verbal images that have be-

come faded through the “reduction to literalness” (Trapp, 66) caused by

illustration itself and, on the other hand, the all-too-frequent shortsightedness of visual discourse with respect to the stratified signification of the poetic word. Such an escape route originates in the fruitful conflict between a text and an image that are created independently from a common concept that both poet and artist wish to express. This text and this image then work dialectically to produce a new symbolic translation of that original concept. The individual elements around which the various symbolic expressions are constructed delineate meanings that serve to form trajectories, different modes of tracing writing. These stand out from their setting as details only partially controllable, which not only shed a particular light on the Petrarchan text but also prompt its recontextualization within a new

12.

13.

See Shearman, 82: “It is often assumed that the visual arts are unlike the literary in that they cannot be concerned with a sequence of moments, except by multiple narrative, and it is an interesting question whether this assumption is entirely true. I would suggest that High Renaissance artists began to describe sequence, or the passage through moments, by exploiting the spectator’s familiarity with image types customarily used in the next or preceding moments of a narrative; familiarity and expectation may, then, allow the understanding of the ‘genealogy of the moment, an implication of sequence even if it is not its illustration.” See Carruthers, 222: “Both textual activities, picturing and reading, have as their goal not simply the learning of a story, but learning it to familiarize and domesticate it, in that fully internalized, even physiological way that medieval reading required. But in order to profit from pictura, one must understand it rhetorically, as directly ref erential not to an object but to a text (‘historia’) and thus to the human memorative processes called reading and composition.”

Andrea Torre

EMBLEMATICA

226

227

system of meaning,!* thereby creating in the course of the visual experience a “rebound effect” that triggers “beyond all possible means of control the dispersal of the textual construct through the operation of an indiscrete

Works Cited

All these examples provide us with a specific perspective on Petrarch’s Canzoniere. This perspective mirrors that of sixteenth- and seventeenthcentury readers of emblems, who appreciated the Canzoniere not only as a unique and complex narrative but also as a receptacle for fragmentary micro-narrations, shards of images and conceits.'> The case of the Chatsworth Petrarca is far from simple and is yet to be fully deciphered in all its complexity. It appears particularly relevant, however, within the (also theoretical) framework of research that aims to (1) study a certain typology of the reception of Petrarch’s work that implies a visual translation of the text; (2) investigate the process of the emblematic elaboration in itself; (3) use images to explicate texts and vice versa; and (4) read Petrarch’s work in light of these visual translations by developing research on reception into research through reception.'® The swan and Phaethon, Eros and the virgins, Arachne and the phoenix emerge from these poetic scenes as details that connect and contrast, that concentrate and dilate, the other fragmenta in our memory. They provide

Alexander, J. J. G., ed. The Painted Page. Italian Renaissance Book Ilumina-

ly as a verbal structure but also as a visual structure, an interpretation that

Boccaccio, Giovanni. Rime. Ed. Vittore Branca. Milan, 1967.

and passionate gaze” (Arasse, 57; my translation).

signposts for an interpretation of the poetic text that envisages it not mere-

places the sound of sighs side by side with the sight of sighs.

Albonico, Simone. “Per un commento ἃ «Ἀν»

e metrica italiana 1 (2001): 3-30.

50. Parte prima.” Stilistica

tion 1450-1550. London, 1994.

Arasse, Daniel. I/ dettaglio. La pittura vista da vicino. Milan, 2007.

Arbizzoni, Guido. “Pictura gravium ostenduntur pondera rerum. Per le immagini degli emblemi.” Letteratura & Arte 3 (2005): 125-39. Baldoncini, 5. “Prendi pur maraviglia o buon Plutarco (Nota alla “Vita dis-

perata di Eurialo d’Ascoli).” Quaderni di filologia e lingue romanze

2 (1980): 387-96.

Barkan, Leonard. The Gods Made Flesh. New Haven, 1986.

Barker, N., ed. The Devonshire Inheritance. Five Centuries of Collecting at Chatsworth. Alexandria (VA), 2003. Barolini, Teodolinda. “Arachne, Argus, and St. John: Transgressive Art in

Dante and Ovid.” Mediaevalia 13 (1987): 207-26.

Belting, Hans. “Image, Medium, Body: A New Approach to Iconology.” Critical Inquiry 31:2 (2005): 302-19. Carruthers, Mary. The Book of Memory: A Study of Memory in Medieval Culture. Cambridge (MA), 1990. “Chansonnier N.” [Illustrated Provengal songbook of late thirteenth cen-

14

15.

16.

See Russell, 237-39: “The emblematic process was an act of contextualization.... Providing such a signal was the function of the emblematic: it fitted an image into a setting that would transform it from a simple part of nature into a metaphorical ornament of some idea.” See Russell, 7: “The emblematic image is a detachable, ornamental image, but by the

very fact that it can stand alone, detached from the development it is intended to support and illuminate, it is also independent from that development, and provides an open field for the free association of the reader. It is no longer held captive by this signifié, and as if absorbed by it.” See Belting, 302: “Images are neither on the wall (or on the screen) nor in the head alone. They do not exist by themselves, but they happen; they take place whether they are moving images (where this is so obvious) or not. Thay happen via transmis-

sion and perception.”

tury.] Pierpont Morgan Library, New York (NY), MS 819.

Cherchi, Paolo. “Opra d’Aragna’ (RVF, cixx111)”

In I Canzoniere.

Lettura micro e macrotestuale, ed. Michelangelo Picone. Ravenna,

2007. Pp. 135-45.

Comboni, Andrea. “Eros e Anteros nella poesia italiana del Rinascimento.

Appunti per una ricerca.” Italique 3 (2000): 7-21.

Crimi, Giuseppe. “Morani, Aurelio (Eurialo da Ascoli).” In Dizionario biografico degli italiani. Rome, 2012. Pp. 499-502.

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Debenedetti, Emilio. “Notizie sulla vita e sugli scritti di Eurialo Morani da

Ascoli.” Giornale storico della letteratura italiana 39 (1902): 1-31.

Dempsey, Charles. Inventing the Renaissance Putto. Chapel Hill, 2001. Folena, Gianfranco.

Textus testis. Lingua e cultura poetica delle origini.

Turin, 2001. Forster,

Leonard.

The

Icy Fire.

Cambridge (MA), 1969.

Five

Studies

in European

Petrarchism.

Nichols, Stephen J. “Art’ and ‘Nature.’ Looking for (medieval) principles of order in Occitan Chansonnier N (Morgan 819).” In The Whole Book. Cultural Perspectives on the Medieval Miscellany, ed. Stephen J. Nichols and Stephen Wenzel. Ann Arbor, 1996. Pp. 83-121.

Petrarca, Francesco (Petrarch). Rime e Trionfi. Biblioteca Guarneriana in San Daniele del Fiuli, ms. 139. n.p., ca. 1480. . Il Petrarca. Venice, 1514.

. The “Triumphs” of Petrarch translated into English verse. Trans. Henry Boyd. London, 1807.

Gasparotto, Davide. “Clovio, Giorgio Giulio.” In Dizionario biografico dei miniatori italiani. Secoli IX-XVT, ed. Milvia Bollati. Milan, 2004. Pp. 163-67.

. Petrarch’s Lyric Poems: Rime Sparse and Other Lyrics. Trans. Robert M. Durling. Cambridge (MA), 1976.

Harries, Byron. “The Spinner and the Poet: Arachne in Ovid's Metamorphoses” Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society 36 (1990): 64-82.

. Triumphi. Ed. Marco Ariani. Milan, 1988. . Canzoniere. Ed. Sabrina Stroppa. Turin, 2011.

Huot, Sylvia. “Visualization and memory. The illustration of troubadour lyric in a thirteenth-century manuscript.” Gesta 31:1 (1992): 3-14.

Russell, Daniel. Emblematic

Lazzi, Giovanna. “Ovidio, Metamorphoses (volgarizzamento di Arrigo Simintendi da Prato)” In Vedere i classici. Lillustrazione libraria

Safñotti

dei testi antichi dalleta romana al tardo medioevo, ed. Marco

Buonocore. Rome, 1996. Pp. 249-51.

Leibundgut, Annalis. “Neuplatonische Elemente und deren Ironisierung in einem unbekannten Loblied yon 1539 zum Apoll im Belvedere. Untersuchungen zu den Stanze d'Eurialo dAscoli sopra la statua dApollo oder die Capricci des Eurialo” Pegasus. Berliner Beiträge zum Nachleben der Antike 8 (2006): 117-67. Loh, Maria H. “Outscreaming the Laocoën: Sensation, Special Affects, and

the Moving Image.” Oxford Art Journal 34:3 (2011): 393-414.

Lucioli, Francesco. “D’ogni cortese amor nimico vero. Della (s)fortuna di Anteros nel Rinascimento.” Lettere italiane 62:3 (2010): 395-422. Maddalo, Silvia. Sanvito e Petrarca. Scrittura e immagine nel codice Bodmer. Messina, 2002.

Maffei, Sonia. “La fama di Laocoonte nei testi del Cinquecento.” In Laocoonte. Fama e stile, ed. Salvatore Settis. Rome, 1999. Pp. 138-40.

Merril, Robert. “Eros und Anteros.” Speculum 19 (1944): 265-84.

229

Toronto, 1995.

Structures in Renaissance French

Culture.

Dale, Maria Francesca. “Raymond de Lodève, Vincent” In Dizionario biografico dei miniatori italiani. Secoli IX-XVI, ed. Milvia Bollati. Milan, 2004. Pp. 899-902. Shearman, John. Only Connect: Art and the Spectator in the Italian Renaissance. Princeton, 1992. Torre,

Andrea.

Vedere

versi.

Un

manoscritto

di emblemi petrarcheschi

(Baltimore, Walters Art Gallery, Ms. W476). Napoli, 2012. Trapp, Joseph B. “Petrarch’s Laura:Th e Portraiture of an Imaginary Beloved.” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 64 (2001): 55-192.

Warburg, Aby. [Orig. Erneuerung der heidnischen Antike.] La rinascita del paganesimo antico; contributi alla storia della cultura. Ed. Gertrude Bing. Trans. Emma Cantimori. Florence, 1966.

κενούς. HE τως γος

Georg Philipp Harsdorffer and the Emblematic Pamphlets of 1641-42:

Peristromata Turcica and Aulaea Romana Edited, translated, and with an Introduction and Commentary by

MAX REINHART University of Georgia

Part 2: Aulaea Romana

For Klaus Garber and Theodor Verweyen, beloved mentors Frames of reference: Second Reformation, irenicism, public law

ulaea Romana [Roman Tapestries, henceforward Aul], the response from the Fruchthringende Gesellschaft to the beautiful but inflammatory Peristromata Turcica {Turkish Tapestries,

henceforward Per], is—given the profundity of its subject matter, its ur-

gent occasionality, and its comparative length (nearly twice the number of words)—strikingly measured in tone. Per is all bluster and alarm: Au/ at

every turn is calm and heartening. In Per, everywhere there are “bloody incentives for wars” (327);' nay, they amount to nothing but “false fire” the author of Au/ assures us in his conclusion. A language of dissension, All references to Per hereinafter are to the edition published with translation,

notes, and commentary in Emblematica 20 (2013): 277-375. Similarly, all refer-

ences to Au/ are to the edition chat follows this introduction. I record here my

gratitude to David Graham, Managing Editor of Emblematica, and to the other

editors and the publisher for their faith in my vision for this material and their assistance in resolving some challenging editorial problems.

Emblematica, Volume 21. Copyright © 2014 by AMS Press, Inc. All rights reserved.

EMBLEMATICA

234

treachery, darkness, destruction prevails in Per, in which only France offers hope for Christendom; in Aul it is chat of concord, unity, peace, tolerance, reassurance, illumination, with greatest hope being placed in the hands of the Habsburg emperor, Ferdinand III? The author of dul, whom I have identified as the Anhaltian court adviser and diplomat Martin Milag (Per, 290), by no means invented on his own the rhetoric of peace heard here. Milag was a scholar of great learning, capable of summoning references and allusions from a vast literary repertoire stretching from antiquity to the contemporary present, a fact that no doubr recommended his being commissioned to answer the impressive French emblematic treatise. His proven effectiveness as a diplomat surely figured into that decision, as well. Bur neither his formidable skills nor his prodigious intellect automatically qualified him as an originator of the irenic idiom. Indeed, he was directed to the task by none other than his lord, Ludwig,’ prince of the CalvinistReformed court at Anhalt-Kéthen and founder of the Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft, to compose, in opposition to Per, on behalf of the sodality, a delightful work ... an omen of the fervently desired peace that may be favorably brought to pass by the Greatest and the Best God! ... And so, whereas the Turkish Tapestries uses pleasant means to brandish monstrous threats... so the more nobly will the arts of your talent be exercised, and the more delightful the matter of my wishes. (Aud, “Occasion and Purpose,’ 274-73)

Nor is Prince Ludwig’s own charge to Milag in terms of peace a sudden inspiration. It reflects rather the house discourse cultivated at Anhalt ever since its embrace some forty-five years earlier of the anti-Habsburgian, ecumenical principles of the so-called Second Reformation (Hoppe, 138-41), and with them the Heidelberg Catechism as expression of the true Christian faith.* However, if proponents of a further reformation, the goal of which 2. 3. 4.

The person of the emperor is not to be taken, however, as metonymic of the Habsburg Empire, as will become clear. The older chief biography of Prince Ludwig is Krause; more recently, Hoppe, and Conermann 2010. The Heidelberg Catechism sought to formulate a credal statement that could be spoken freely by Christians of all denominations. Its words are clearly echoed in a passage from Tapestry II: “Religionem autem Christianam, intelligo illam, quae ἃ CHRISTO

Servatore, Vitae & praeceptorum sanctimonia stabilita, ἃ

Prophetis & SS. Apostolis Sacris literis consignata & SS. Martyrum sanguine

Max Reinhart

235

was the completion of Luther project, tended in their zeal toward an aggressive polemicism,’ the Anhaltian preference was decidedly for the ideals of unity, toleration, and, most notably, concord (concordia)’ as advanced in the Jrenicum (Book of Peace, 1614), a guide for confessional unity, by the Heidelberg theologian David Pareus.’ In the aristocratic-democratic court at Anhalt-Kôthen under Ludwig, the very term “Calvinist” —politically sensitive in Germany after the exclusion of the Calvinists from the Augsburg Settlement of 1555—was discreetly avoided in favor of “ein guter Christ” [a good Christian] to prevent unnecessary provocation (Conermann 1985, “Stiftung, 27). The point hardly needs stressing that the same attitudes of tolerance and conciliation were cultivated in Prince Ludwig's language and literary society, the Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft, as Aul repeatedly demonstrates.* From the Tertullian epigraph, “Pax Christianorum bellum est Diabolo” [The peace of Christians is war to the devil] to the departing sanguine wish from Claudian, “succedant otia curis” [Let peace succeed these labors], the ethos of Christendom in harmony with itself sets about defeating the noisy belligerence of Per.’ Or, again in the borrowed words of obfirmata ad nos pervenit.” [By the Christian religion I understand the one that

has come down to us through Christ the Savior, established by his sanctified life and teachings, consigned to Holy Scripture by the prophets and sainted apostles, and confirmed by the blood of the sacred martyrs. |

5.

This was due in no small part to the equally aggressive tactics employed by the Counter-Reformationists. See documents in Muller and Gunnoe; and Apper-

loo-Boersma and Selderhuis.

:

6.

Concordia is the central concept in Aul, the word itself occurring some ten times, including its exponential place in the title itself: Dissertatio Emblematica, Concordiae Christianae Omen Repraesentans.

7.

Pareus represents the latest in a line of three influential Palatine theorists of irenicism, of whom the first two, Zacharias Ursinus and Caspar Olevianus, had been charged by Elector Palatine Friedrich III with preparing the Heidelberg Cate-

chism of 1563. See Benrath, 352-55; for a monograph, see Brinkmann; on theory and history of irenicism, see Holtmann; on visions and policies for peace begin-

ning in the Renaissance, see Raumer; see also Garber 2000, “Prophecy,” and Herz. broader movement of intellectual societies in Germany, see Orto; Bircher and van Ingen; and Ball. 9.

Pax (pacis, pacem) occurs some seventeen times in Aul, with a wide field of se-

mantically related words, such as justitia, amor, tranquillitas, quies, otium, lux, and the like.

236

Claudian (Tapestry III): “Peragit tranquilla potestas, quod violenta nequit” [Quiet authority accomplishes what violence cannot]. For all their differences in tone and point of view, however, Per and Aul share in common the fundamental constitutional principle of early modern public law (jus publicum; Ger. Publizistik), which rejected the medieval claim to universalism,!° whether secular (empire) or ecclesiastical (church).!! While humanist scholars remained divided on the question of whether the empire or the imperial estates possessed sovereignty, all agreed chat “imperial consti-

tutional law must be mined from ‘native’ legal sources” (Stolleis 1998, 19),

not from foreign (read: Roman) law. For its part, France looked with deepest suspicion on the universalist claims coming from the Spanish-Austrian dynasty; wartime Germany, while also leery of Vienna, fretted increasingly over the less-than-transparent political will being manifested west of the Rhine, including France vacillating policy toward the Ottomans, now friendly (in terms of the Franco-Ottoman alliance), now bellicose (as in Per). The French Per disparages the authority of what it calls the “Imperium Hispano-Germanicum” (Tapestry III) in the strongest of terms, and holds up France, in the kingly person of Louis XIII, as the champion of Christendom (Tapestry IV), whereas the German Aul appeals similarly to Emperor Ferdinand III as the latest in the line of “Caesars” from the “Imperium Romanum” (Tapestry III). The respective position in the two pamphlets does not pit the one defender against the other, or speak expressis verbis against the Holy Roman Empire, but is concerned, rather, with which authority would be more effective in guaranteeing liberty and bringing about, or restoring—and in this regard, it is meaningful, both politically and aesthetically, in which direction one focuses!*—a swift and lasting peace at home and throughout Christendom. But how is such a peace to come about? Late sixteenth- and seventeenth-century scholars of public law 10.

11.

12.

Max Reinhart

EMBLEMATICA

See Franz Bosbach’s monograph for additional detail; on Dante’s vision of a universal monarchy within the grand scheme of early modern utopian thought, see

Garber 2000, “Prophecy,” 9-12. The rise of the scholarly study of public law asa discipline (Reichspublizistik) was motivated significantly by a repudiation of that old romantic yearning north of the Alps, still very much alive in the mid-seventeenth century, for a return of the ancient political glory of empire, the so-called renovatio imperii. See my discussion in Per (292, 297-98). The printer foreword to Aul criticizes the fascination of Per with novelty for its own sake, that is, without solid grounding in ancient and therefore purest Christian values.

237

argued, in part on the basis of historiographical accounts of the success enjoyed by certain Italian leagues of small states against larger aggressive ones, * that peace is predicated on the achievement of a balance of power,'* which is to say, on harmony, with its attendant concepts of concord and alliance. It is this basic problem that drives the arguments of Per and Aul.° Per reflects the mainstream contemporary French view that Richelieu’s policies, while necessarily assertive, were not hegemonic but primarily defensive and that less powerful states should fall in line for their own protection and wellbeing. The Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft remained dubious, however, not only about France’s intentions but about its actual ability to deliver the goods, and Milag quotes Guicciardini’s troubling observation that “the French will be more successful in acquisition than prudent in preservation” (Tapestry IV). Understanding the components and strategies that should go into the making of peace and concord during the chaos of war, now in its third decade, was by no means a simple matter and involved astute political, historical, philosophical, religious, psychological, and even, as in these two pamphlets, aesthetic reasoning. That both authors chose to present this daunting set of 13.

For example, the alliance formed in the fifteenth century by the princes of Florence, Milan, and Naples against Venice; Francesco Guicciardini had described a

similar successful arrangement against Venice. On the tendency over the early modern period toward the greater formation of alliances, see “Bund, especially sec. 2, “Vom ‘Bund’ zum ‘Biindnis.” 14.

_ E. Kaeber’s 1907 dissertation (reprinted 1971) remains unsurpassed for its layout of the early modern French literature—which is where this genre began—on che “système des contrepoids.” His conclusions should be read in combination

with the later historical reassessments by Albertini, Mousnier, Dickmann, Rep-

gen, and Weber (1977, 1992) of French, particularly Richelieu’s, policies. For an

entry into the history and philosophy of public law, see Roeck, Stolleis 1988, and Zoller. On the particular problem of hegemony and balance of power, see especially Dehio, also Friedrich.

15.

For Germany, recognition of the necessity of a balance of power (viz., between

the Austrian and Protestant estates) began with the disastrous defeat of Elector Palatine Friedrich V in 1620 (Kaeber, 34-35; Kaeber supports his position

with reference to an article in the Paris 1632 edition of Recueil de quelques dis-

cours politiques, titled “Discours sur ce qui peut sembler estre plus expedient, et à moyenner au sujet des guerres entre l'Empereur et le Palatin”). On Calvinism

as a politico-confessional force in the early modern territorial states, specifically

the Palatinate but across Europe as well, see Press, Nischan, and Walter. On the German aspiration for unity between the early sixteenth century and the Peace of Westphalia, see Lutz.

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EMBLEMATICA

complexities within the epistemological framework of the emblem makes i |: 16 these works unique among the vast literature of early modern publicic law. Reading Aulaea Romana

Aulis a composition of extraordinary erudition and craft, demanding of the “lector studiosus” not only a great deal of literary knowledge (or the willingness to acquire it by following the author’s leads) but, what is more, the ability to discern the complex narratological strategies at work in it. That is to say, before one can begin to know what is being said in Au/, one must recognize how the message is being delivered. Although Au/ fits ideologically within the broadly defined literature of public law, it is by no means a piece of straightforward historiography. Rather, it engages in the vigorous contemporary experimental culture of intertextuality and intermediality as a kind of deconstructive exercise that enables an author to examine problems in greater nuance and beyond the trammels of received rhetorical and generic expectations.'” Milag—with, it must not be forgotten, the active contribution of his friend Georg Philipp Harsdôrffer, “The Playful One”'*—combines two main intertextual strategies, or forms, both of which involve mixed genres, to create a text of unusual complexity, but one that will ultimately reward the faithful reader who pursues its implications to the end; “simultext” readings disrupt traditional genre expectations by bringing individual linear-narrative readings into a vertical, simultaneous relationship, and the emblem in Au/ is conceived as a purposeful construct setting no less a goal than bringing the sudden and complete illumination of truth to a darkened world. 16. 17. 18.

Max Reinhart Text and simultext!?

Let us imagine a scholar of early modern European literature who makes the hasty decision to ignore Milag’s lengthy introduction and so begins straight away with Tapestry I on page 27 of Endter’s printing of Aul. By page 29—there are seven Claudian citations, used as emblematic mottoes, on these three pages—our reader will no doubt confidently exclaim, “Ah yes, another mosaic of quotable quotes from the old master himself, Claudius Claudianus!”” For, by the late sixteenth century, the eminently quotable Claudian was being plundered through the art of extraction?! by writers of all colors and stripes across Europe and Britain, turning his felicitous phrases this way and that, often to “end up meaning something entirely different” from what he himself had intended (Braden, 207). Aul may indeed on first reading give the impression of having been constructed of borrowed elements in the popular stile a mosaico. The more than 40 citations of Claudian—in all instances but one their precise textual locations are provided in marginal notes—fall into four general categories typical of Renaissance borrowing: verbatim quotations, having the same contextual meaning; quotations with altered inflection or syntax to accommodate the new situation (e.g., “is he to delight?” > “let

us delight”); ironic altering of quotations by negation (e.g., “a fate not un-

known” > “a fate unknown’); alteration of the quoted context to serve a new purpose (“their now irrevocable doom” > “the doom [of wrath] will be revoked”). To about half of these instances, Milag assigns the further 19.

respondents often occur out of logical sequence due to the rapidity of the chat. Sequential disruption certainly is a factor in the early modern simultext, but it forces the reading not to speed up, as in text messaging, but to slow down in or-

20.

It would be most interesting and surely worthwhile to attempt to determine in more detail the actual contribution of Harsdérffer to the composition of Aud, that is, beyond his secondary advisory role. To the present editor—while meaning to take nothing away from Milag’s considerable talents—the stunning textual Kombinatorik repeatedly calls to mind the unique inventiveness scholars have

come to associate with der Spielende. Small wonder that the German literary tradition has always, if wrongly, attributed the work to him.

The term simultext, which I coined for a study on borrowing Claudian in Aul (Reinhart 1999, “Text”), should not be confused with what has meanwhile

become a banal phenomenon of text messaging, in which utterances between

The work of Wolfgang Harms and Hartmut Freytag should be consulted in this context, as well. On the theory and practice of intertextuality and intermediality in the early

modern German-speaking lands, see Kühimann and Neuber; more broadly, in early modern Europe, see Kapp, Schoeck, Geiger, and Plert.

239

21.

der to trace the interrupting text back to its roots and to consider, seriously and unhurriedly, the production of new meanings. The lively Claudian manuscript tradition dates from the twelfth century. The first edition of his works was undertaken by Celsanus in Vicenza in 1472. Claudian was Egyptian (probably Alexandrian) by birth, but a legend grew in fourteenth- and fifteenth-century Florence that he was in fact Florentine, a curiosity that contributed to the explosion of his popularity in Europe as one of the

major Latin poets (Clarke; Dépp). Milag uses Del Rio's commentated edition (whether the 1572 or the 1596 is not known) of Claudian entire œwvre. Bolgar (chap. 7) speaks of this art as “the popularization ofa new method of study.”

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role of contributing to a highly constructed and multilayered reading char-

acterized here as simultext, in which Claudian’s lines are cited, not merely

as historical exempla or for added stylistic élan, but as signposts directing the reader into a deeper content that both facilitates the unfolding of implications in the primary text and enters into a dialogue with it. We may isolate three different categories, depending on complexity and function, of simultext readings in Au/: 1.

Claudians text is adduced as identical with or equivalent to the modern

situation, a proof text, as it were, that reveals or enhances the truth of the given circumstance; if then the textual hint is pursued, still further insight will be manifest.

Example: The first mention of Claudian, by Prince Ludwig in his charge to Milag (see below, 282-81), illustrates this type of simultext: “durae quis terminus unquam sortis erit?” [ Will there ever be an end to our hard lot?].

Ludwig is expressing his worry about the grim consequences if the current negotiations in Regensburg fail to bring the parties “in Concordiae & Tranquillitatis publicae portum” [into the port of public concord and tranquility]. His question is not merely rhetorical but arises out of his thorough acquaintance with Claudian’s works. He is quoting here Ruf. 2.89-90, which is spoken by the army of the good general Stilicho against the traitor Rufinus, whom Claudian holds responsible for making Emperor Theodosius vulnerable to the Germanic invaders, namely, because Rufinus destroyed the internal “concord and tranquility.” That is precisely Ludwig’s concern, that Germany is weak because of internal divisions. Now, if, responding to the textual hint, we continue to read in Ruf. 2, we discover about 150 lines later (Il. 238-39) the solution, similitudine temporum, to Ludwig’s very concern, when Stilicho’s soldiers affirm their unity under him: “non dissociabile corpus coniunctumque sumus” [we are one undivided body]. The achievement of this “undivided body,’ that is, of concordia, is the predominant theme of Aul. 2.

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does not give them pleasure]. Milag (below, 308-7) borrows a fragment of the line, turning it to the idea of taking pleasure in granting Christian pardon, or grace: “indulgere juvat” [it is a pleasure to grant pardon; or: he delights in gentleness].” It was in this same tapestry (II), just a few lines

above, that Milag had adduced the image of Mt. Etna (symbolic of the

Turks) as “the flames undying, unsleeping” (Rapt. 3.400-401). Reading

ahead in the present citation, the fire imagery is continued; namely, it is said to be innate in the glorious youths Probinus and Olybrius—but unlike the modern Turks, they overcome the potential for immoral indulgence in that internal fire. One can appreciate this fine point only by following the deeper path into Claudian as suggested by his modern borrower, Milag® Moreover, the Christian fire, also like the Turkish fire, never goes out; it, however, is a true fire, as opposed to the “false fire” of the heathen. By this true fire, “Apostolicum illud aurum probatur” [the apostolic gold is tested]. Thus the motifs and images continue to guide the reader in many directions at once—historical, moral, political—throughout the text. 3. Claudian’s text is wrapped into others within the modern text, forming a sequence of texts that comment on each other such that one cannot be understood fully without the others being considered simultaneously. This type of simultext is the most closely related to emblematic structure and thought.

Example: The second quotation of Claudian, slightly modified, occurs near

the end of Milag’s epistolary introduction (below, 290-89), line 41 from Magnes, a poem on magnetism. Claudian’s original text reads, “quae duras

iungit concordia mentes?” [What harmony unifies hardened souls?]; 4u/

has “duras jungat concordia mentes” [Let harmony unify hardened souls).

Milag has extracted the line to serve as the motto for the frontispiece,”* as

he explains in an introductory remark: “So that the premise upon which my entire work rests be made apparent from the outset, I intend to enclose the

Claudian’s text is altered and put to a different use, but the adaptation integrates it into the modern argument and is further enhanced by the images and motifs it shares with the original text.

22.

Example: In Prob. 152, Claudian valorizes the young joint-consuls Probinus and Olybrius for refusing to participate in the wanton excess of Roman banquets: “indulgere iuvat nec tanta licentia vitae” [such licentiousness

24.

23.

The referent is unclear, though it is probably the emperor, Ferdinand III. For Milag’s Protestant Christian readers, an additional point would not have gone unnoticed: Probinus and Olybrius came from the Christian house of the Anicii. To be sure, it is doubrful that this meant anything to Claudian.

The frontispiece (see below, 264) represents the template that the remaining emblematic tapestries will dress with their own mottoes and banderoles. At the center, or pictura, stands the palm tree device of the Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft.

242

title in a circuit of chain, kept in place by a magnetic stone standing above, made from links not individually connected but held in a mysterious embrace by a kind of love, as it were. It bears the [following] motto. .. ’ Thus we have the first integration of a Claudian text into the primary text. But immediately, he wraps it into another text: “I shall speak rather more clearly in the words of Augustine. ‘I saw he said, ‘an iron ring seized by a stone and lifted into the air...” There follows an anecdote told by Augustine in his City of God (21.4) about having seen multiple blocks of iron, joined invisibly, elevated by the power of a magnet; to this anecdote, Milag adds his own comment: “I truly believe that what is in all of our prayers will come to pass, and I pray that souls stubborn and hardened to bloody hatred (greater even than hatreds worthy of Vatinius) might create, once they are mysteriously joined, one bond of concord.” The canonical three emblematic parts are all in place: the inscriptio (from Claudian), the pictura (the society's palm tree device), and the swbscriptio (Augustine’s anecdote plus Milag’s comment).”

Nor is that the end of it, for Milag’s practice of selecting richly allusive texts by Claudian is on brilliant display here. Let us take the present case only one step further (there are at least two more textual connections to be discovered beyond this): The line quoted above concludes an allegory of Mars and Cytherea (Venus). Mars (War) is a statue made of iron while that of Cytherea (Love), his wife, is the lodestone. The allegory reads, in part: Cytherea maritum

sponte rapit caelique toros imitata priores

pectora lascivo flatu Mavortia nectit et tantum suspendit onus galeaeque lacertos implicat et visis totum complexibus ambit. pronubia fit natura deis ferrumque maritat

aura tenax: subitis sociantur numina furtis. (IL. 31-35, 38-39)

(Cytherea, without quitting her station, attracts her husband to her, and, recalling the scene of which heaven was once witness, clasps Mars to her bosom with amorous breath. There she holds him suspended; 25.

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It should be noted that the status of the emblema triplex as a canonical form for the emblem—long presented as something like a norm or ideal—has been contested by some recent scholarship, which emphasizes the emblem’s

functional rather than structural characteristics; see, e.g., Graham 2005a and 2005b, and Môdersheim.

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her arms enfold the helmet of the god and clasp his whole body in a lifelike embrace. ... Nature presides over the divine marriage; a binding breath woos the steel to wedlock; suddenly two deities are mated in secret union; trans. Platnauer.]

It must be understood that all this literary production (and more, if one continues to pursue the leads) will be processed by the “lector studiosus” before Milag’s next paragraph even begins. Such is the potentializing nature of the simultext. Emblem as construction and illumination

Viewed within the broader field of German literature of the seventeenth century, Au/ displays an unusually high degree of self-reflection, or intentionality, with respect both to its occasion and to its construction. That

is not, of course, the same thing as saying that its meaning is transparent or

that its methods are simple. We have just seen in the discussion of simultext how very complex the Wahrheitsfindung, the actual process of the discovery of meaning, can be. What is striking, however, is the candor, generosity, and explicitness with which Milag lays out the circumstances and design of his composition. This openness becomes apparent from the beginning. His thirteen-page introductory “Occasion and Purpose,” fully one-fifth the length of the entire pamphlet, describes in vivid, often enchanting, detail both the reason for the project and the author's grand aspirations for it. It also provides the necessary clues for unlocking the hermeneutic door marked “Claudius Claudianus,” starting with Prince Ludwig's suggestion to make use of Claudian’s wisdom and proceeding to Milag’s acknowledgment that he will consult the Del Rio edition, along with the clear hint to the reader to follow the bibliographic bread crumbs in the margins. Milag is equally descriptive of how he has constructed the emblem, the second main form, after the simultext, for the discovery and expression of meaning. In Tapestry I (below, 295-97), with respect to its actual construction and rationale, he writes, 26.

27.

Against the late twentieth-century tendency to project onto early modern writers the postmodernist disavowal of the autonomous self, Wilhelm Kühlmann (1994) affirms the guiding, managing, controlling individual subject-writer (esp. 111-15). His thesis is convincingly validated by the author(s) of Aud. As we shall see, Harsdôrffer himself (in his postscript) will add a layer of interpretation all his own. For more on Harsdérffer’s emblematic theory and practice, see Mara R. Wade.

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EMBLEMATICA I divide each weaving into three parts: border, main field, and shield. The border links the respective pictures by means of Claudian banderoles to different mottoes.... At the top is the letter F, the first letter in the name of the Holy Imperial Majesty, together with the imperial crown, around which are braided peaceful olive branches. . . . In the main field of the tapestry grows a triumphal palm, which preserves its leafy greenery, neither shedding nor flowering, and is thus understood as the hieroglyph of victory (born of mercy and kindness after arms had been laid aside). . . . “The bucklers and shields of mighty men will hang” [Song of Sol. 4:4] from this tree of victors. But what sort, you ask? “Fiery shields” [Nah. 2:3], conspicuous in truth, burning with the ardor of Christian piety. Fortified by these shields, we shall stand as one against Turkish arms. . . .

To Milag’s Reformed-Calvinist mind, the emblem must ultimately be articulated and explained, not simply viewed in silent fascination. “Emblematica pictura haud muta Eloquentia est” [[A]n emblematic picture is by no means a kind of mute eloquence], he insists at the end of his introduction (below, 290-91), in a blunt rejoinder to Per (326). And alluding to the ancient painter Timanthes, in whose work tradition had demonstrated that much more lay behind the canvas than actually appeared, he flatly contradicts the belief in Per that surface appearance has independent value: “plus intelligitur, quam videtur, & plus videtur, quam pingitur” [more is understood than actually appears, and more appears than is depicted]. Milag’s critical observation recalls Harsdôrffer’s theoretical statement in the 1641 volume of the Frauenzimmer Gesprachspiele that emblems produce a surplus of meaning, that they mean more than what is actually depicted (“mehr weisen/ als gemahlet . . . ist” [they indicate more than what is depicted or written]).* Properly employed, the emblem generates by this surplus, not merely the “frail shadow” of “entice-

ments” and “novelty,’ as alleged for the French presentation (Per, 319), but

vital, productive thought— Geist in the Kantian sense. The immediate context of these reflections on the construction of the emblem includes Tapestries I, I, and III and concerns itself with assessing the actual Turkish threat,” which had been presented in direst terms and dark 28.

See my discussion in Per, 295-97.

29.

“I shall now comment on the Turkish Tapestries one by one, starting with the pic-

ture of the first Roman tapestry, which is Etna. .. ”” (Tapestry I; see below, 299).

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blood-red colors by Per. Tapestry I, “The Ottoman Empire,’ directly addresses the fearful image given in Per of the Turks as a fiery Mt. Etna. Au/ seems to agree, quoting Rapt. (Rape of Proserpina) 3.396: “compresso mons igne tonans” [the mountain thundering with repressed fire]. In Tapestry IL, “The Christian Religion,’ the image grows still more ominous, borrowing Rapt. 3.400-401 (with only a slight variation): “ignes, / inocciduos, insopitosque”

[the flames undying, unsleeping]. However, Claudian is not referring to Mt. Etna at all but to the torches carried by Ceres as she searches for her abducted daughter, and the thunder is a natural effect of her stopping up the maw of the volcano with a heap of cypress trees. The inference is that the Turks themselves may growl, but the threat is no more real than that. To make it emphatic, Milag cites Seneca’s cooly rational view (Ep. 79) that Mt. Etna behaves as it does for purely natural-scientific reasons (the winds, the fissures, the hot core, etc.). But what of the fire that also burns in the Christian religion and in the Roman Empire? The pivotal moment in resolving this ostensibly troubling question is provided by Claudian's account of the fraternal joint-consuls Probinus and Olybrius, discussed above in the third category of simultext (Prob. 152);

namely, there is a kind of fire that is pure and that purifies. Consideration of this kind of fire is the focus of Tapestry III. Like Mr. Etna, it is inextinguishable; unlike it, however, it is divine. This divinity has two manifestations: the

Christian religion, for which Lactantius, the so-called Christian Cicero, bears witness; and the Roman Empire, that is, as represented by the unbroken line of emperors (“inextincta Caesarum serie perennis”)—of which the latest is our own Ferdinand II—watched over by the Vestal Virgins. These explanations taken together must be understood as comprising the swbscriptio of the emblems in this section, whose pictura is the palm tree and whose inscriptiones are the many, ever-refreshing lines from Claudian. Milag’s willingness to expatiate on the construction of emblematic meaning is outdone only by the concision with which his literary adviser, Harsdôrffer, in his postscript, summarizes the results and intimates new horizons for the emblem.” He begins (below, 346 ff.) by praising Milag for achieving the “unique connection between things and words” that is essential to the constructed emblematic illusion. But Harsdérffer’s interest goes well beyond an appreciation for excellent craftsmanship. The connection 30.

One of the most extraordinary brief reflections on the subject in the seventeenth

century, it calls out for further scholarly attention.

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between things and words, for Harsdôrffer—here anticipating eighteenthcentury linguistic theory—is anthropological. For Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Johann Gottfried Herder, to name things will be to name the self, and to find words in common among human beings is to communicate, human to human. Hence, Harsdôrffer continues, “I hardly know whether you are speaking with Claudian or Claudian with you.” This added clause is crucial to appreciating Harsdürffer's modernist theory of the emblem. Its basis

is understanding (Verstehen): “si utique tuam assecutus sum mentem” [as

I understand your concept], he adds in parentheses. The editorial aside is all important, for it implicates the historical human reader now, across the centuries, in the philosophical production of meaning (viz., in how one joins things and words): Claudian > Milag > Harsdôrffer/reader. Harsdérffer’s anthropology, however, is not the optimistic sort associated with the coming Enlightenment; rather, it is closer to a Hobbesian pessimism, or at least to cautionary doubr: “it is our nature to spread such a dark mist (often in good faith) over the reality of things, so that each man may even exult in his own blindness.” But it is precisely in acknowledging the reality of such natural and willful human benightedness that the hope of illumination becomes possible through art, specifically, through the emblematic art, a proposition he shares with his friend Milag, who wished, we recall, to “cast light . .. upon the Cimmerian darkness of the barbarians” (see below, 287-87). Still, there is a subtle but fundamental difference between how the two friends view enlightenment. Milag’s desire to actively “cast light” is that of the genuine believer, certain that light sparked by emblematic reasoning will flood and defeat the powers of darkness. It is the faith that will give the name to the Enlightenment a century later and that continues, long after Max Horkheimer and Theodor Adorno, to perpetuate the myth among modern thinkers.*! For Harsdôrffer, the light does not arrive triumphantly; rather, the bright things (we note the plural) “gleam out of the darkness” (“ex obscuro scintillant”). As though he realizes this thought may be met with resistance, he adds a striking, rather haunting, analogy: “Emblems should thus be like Scythian and Parthian troops, ingeniously imparting their message while turned in

31.

Cf the recent volume by James MacGregor Burns.

Max Reinhart

24;

flight, and brandishing their spears in backward glances.”* If the emblem sheds light, it does so in small bursts, and as lethally as a well-aimed arrow from the bow ofa retreating marksman; and the subtle messages of emblems

“shine the more beautifully” (“pulchrius elucescunt”) for it. Harsdérffer finds

in this beauty and its “enticements” (“lenociniis”) not something suspect, as it appears to the Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft (Per, 292), but the very catalyst that produces full presence and clarity—illumination—to the observer: Singula ... mihi praesens imaginatio eum in modum

sistit ac si nunc

“prisca quies, revocataque saecula rursus” (Claud., Ruf. 1.357) contigissent, & quasi Aulaea haecce omnibus limbolariorum lenociniis absolutissima coram intuerer: Praeest oculis meis. ... [The details . . . somehow coalesce in my imagination now as if “the

ancient peace, the restoration of that age” (Claud., Ruf. 1.357) had

occurred, and as if I were looking directly upon these tapestries complete with all the weavers’ enticements (so I am persuaded): suddenly, there appear before my eyes, with full clarity. . . .]

While Harsdôrffer does not necessarily stint on the clarifying text, or subscriptio (on the parts of the emblem, see n. 25, above), his sense of the power of the image to bring about its own kind of clarification in the form of sudden illumination suggests a penchant for the hieroglyphic, or enigmatic qualities of the emblem.** Like the answer to a puzzle, the solution reveals itself immediately and completely. Harsdôrffer is at the same time, however, too committed to the word to be suspected of mysticism. Once again, it seems not injudicious to claim a certain prescience in Harsdérffer, in this instance for his intuition of a kind of prophetic discourse that would find its greatest practitioner just over a century later in Johann Georg Hamann. The young Goethe was for a while in thrall to Hamann’s vision of a communicative form that combined the simultaneous (prophetic) word and (human) understanding.

Goethe remained fascinated by this possibility (e.g., in Faust), but insisted that the communication of understanding could take place only in sequential fashion (Irmscher, 20-26). Harsdérffer might well respond that Goethe's view accurately describes his own experience of understanding the emblem. 32.

I find it impossible to resist drawing a comparison here to Walter Benjamin, as in the image of the backward-facing Angelus Novus retreating into the future

33.

See Graham (2002, “Emblem”), and Raybould, chap. 9.

(1968b), or the disappearing storyteller in the essay of that name (1968a).

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249

Editorial note**

Works Cited?

Strictly informational content derives from multiple standard reference works in various European languages from the seventeenth century to the present and is not necessarily acknowledged. In all other cases, I have noted the source in parentheses. Unless otherwise indicated, translations are my own. As for citing Claudian: In the Latin text of Aud, 1 follow the printer's (Endter’s) style, whereas in my English translation and commentary, I observe the modern standard abbreviations: e.g., n. 22, Lat. text: Claud. de rapt. Pros. 3.396.; Eng text: Claud., Rapt. 3.396. Works from the classical,

Albertini, Rudolf von. Das politische Denken in Frankreich zur Zeit Richelieus. Beihefte zum Archiv fiir Kulturgeschichte 1. Marburg, 1951.

biblical, and humanistic literatures are abbreviated in standard form (e.g., Ov., F. = Ovid, Fasti; Matt. = Gospel of Matthew; NT = New Testament).

Frequently seen abbreviations include the following: Aul: FG: NRSV: Per: Vulg:

Aulaea Romana Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft New Revised Standard Version Peristromata Turcica, in Emblematica 20 (2013): 277-375 Vulgare

With respect to emendations of Milag’s Claudian references: because the edition he consulted is undetermined, it is impossible to claim in each case that he is incorrect when his reference does not conform to the modern

edition that I have consulted (Loeb Classical Library, 1976). I therefore use

the term “emends” rather than “corrects.” Finally, I note with regret that, despite the best efforts of many capable hands, a small number of textual mysteries remain unresolved. These are noted as such in the commentary.

Ambrose.

In

Psalmum

15:1197—1525.

David

CXVIII

Expositio.

In

Migne,

PL,

Ammianus Marcellinus. Rerum Gestarum. [RG]. Vols. 1 and 2. Trans. John

C. Rolfe. Loeb Classical Library 300, 315. Cambridge (MA), 1935. Rpt. 1940.

Apperloo-Boersma, Karla, and Herman J. Selderhuis, eds. Power of Faith:

450 Years of the Heidelberg Catechism. Gottingen, 2013.

Arumaeus, Dominicus. Discursus Academici ad Auream Bullam. Jena, 1615-23.

Augustine. Civitas Dei. The City of God. Trans. William M. Green. Loeb Classical Library 417. Cambridge (MA), 1995. Ball, Gabriele. “Alles zu Nutzen-—The Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft (1617-1680) as a German Renaissance Academy.” In The Reach of the Republic of Letters: Literary and Learned Societies in Later Medieval and Early Modern Europe, ed. Arjan van Dixhoorn and Susie Speakman Sutch. Vol. 2. Brill’s Studies in Intellectual History 168. Leiden, 2008. Pp. 389-422. Barr, William. “Claudian and His Historical Background.” Introduction, pt. 1, to Claudian’s Panegyric on the Fourth Consulate of Honorius.

Liverpool Latin Texts (Classical and Medieval) 2. Liverpool, 1981. Pp. 7=17.

Barth, Caspar von. “Claudiani Epigrammata illustrantur et emaculantur.” In Adversariorum

1624. Pp. 13-16.

34,

This note is specific to Au/ and should be supplemented by thar in Per (301).

35.

In order to retain original formatting style when making corrections to the Latin text, I have followed Endter’s practice as best I can reconstruct it; ¢.g., in a lemma (now a note), when a citation should include two biblical verses rather than the

Becman,

Commentariorum Libri LX. Frankfurt a.M.,

Christian. De originibus latinae linguae: et quod ex illis eruatur germana significandi proprietas. Wittenberg, 1609.

Benjamin, Walter. “The Storyteller.” In Illuminations, trans. Harry Zohn. New York, 1968. Pp. 83-109.

original one: ¢.g., n. 36: orig. = Lev. 6. v. 12.; correction: Lev. 6. v. 12. & 13.

Curiously, there are no instances in the original of a note entailing multiple inclusive lines or verses, though for accuracy’s sake there should have been; I have tacitly corrected these with the use of the modern en-dash.

36.

See also the list of works cited for the edition of Peristromata Turcica in Emblematica 20 (2013): 302-12; works cited in both editions are listed in both.

250

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EMBLEMATICA

. “Theses on the Philosophy of History.” In Illuminations, trans. Harry Zohn. New York, 1968. Pp. 253-64. Benrath, Gustav Adolf. “Irenik und Zweite Reformation.” In Schilling. Pp. 349-58. [1986] Bircher, Martin, and Ferdinand van Ingen, eds. Sprachgesellschaften, Sozietäten, Dichtergruppen. Wolfenbiitteler Arbeiten zur Barockforschung 7. Hamburg, 1978. Boethius. De Consolatione Philosophiae. Rev. ed. Trans. S. J. Tester. Loeb Classical Library 74. Cambridge (MA), 1973. Bolgar, R. R. The Classical Heritage and Its Beneficiaries: From the Carolingian Age to the End of the Renaissance. Cambridge (UK), 1954.

. Pro Caelio. Trans. R. Gardner. Loeb Cambridge (MA), 1958. Pp. 406-507.

1976. Pp. 141-71.

Claudian Claudianus. Claudian. 2 vols. Trans. Maurice Platnauer. Loeb

Classical Library 135-36. Cambridge (MA), 1976.

The following works are cited by standard abbreviation and title: Chlam.

De chlamyde et frenis, c.m. XLVI

Cm.

carmina minora

IV Cons.

Panegyricus de quarto consulatu Honorii Augusti

VI Cons.

Panegyricus de sexto consulatu Honorti Augusti

Eutr.

Brinkmann, Günther. Das Irenicum des David Pareus: Frieden und Einheit in ihrer Relevanz zur Wabrheitsfrage. Hildesheim, 1972.

Get.

De bello Getico

Gigant.

Gigantomachia, cm. LIT

London, 1672.

Bruno, Giordano. Praelectiones geometricae e Ars deformationum. Giovanni Aquilecchia. Rome, 1964.

Ed.

“Bund.” In GG 1.

Burns, James

MacGregor.

Fire and Light:

How

Transformed Our World. New York, 2013.

the Enlightenment

Cicero. De Legibus. Laws. Trans. Clinton Walker Keyes. Loeb Classical Library 213. Cambridge (MA), 1928. Pp. 296-517. . De Officiis. On Duties. Trans. Walter Miller. Loeb Classical Library 30. Cambridge (MA), 1913. . In Vatinium. Trans. R. Gardner. Loeb Classical Library 309. Cambridge (MA), 1958. Pp. 240-97. . Orator. Trans. H. M. Hubbell. Rev. ed. Loeb Classical Library 342.

Cambridge (MA), 1962. Pp. 306-509.

Classical Library 447.

Clarke, Amy. “Claudius Claudianus.” In vol. 3 of Translationum et Commentariorum: Mediaeval and Renaissance Latin Translations and Commentaries: Annotated Lists and Guides. Washington (DC),

Bosbach, Franz. Monarchia Universalis: Ein politischer Leitbegriff der friihen Neuzeit. Schriftenreihe der Historischen Kommission bei der Bayerischen Akademie der Wissenschaften 32. Gottingen, 1988.

Browne, Sir Thomas. Pseudodoxia Epidemica. Vulgar Errors. 1646. 6th ed.

251

In Eutropium i, ti

Gild.

De bello Gildonico i

Laus

Laus Serenae, c.m. XXX

Mag.

Magnes, c.m.XXIX

Pallad.

Epithalamium dictum Palladio ...et Celerinae, cm. XXV

Prob.

Panegyricus dictus Probino et Olybrio consulibus

Quad. Mar.

De quadriga marmorea, c.m. VII

Rapt.1,2,3

De raptu Proserpinae, i, ii, iii

Ruf. 1,2

In Rufinum i, ii

Stil.1,2,3

De consulatu Stiliconis i, ii, iii

Theod.

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Georg Philipp Harsdorffer’s Emblematic Pamphlets of 1641-42 Part 2: Aulaea Romana

263

DA

a

om EZ

2

TI

pI

RENTE NuI Prac Ju σης Set

ILIA

RIAD

Max Reinhart

EMBLEMATICA

264

EP

265

Wig E DE Aulaea Romana

L

Pom

Milag’s Latin Text, with an English Translation, Notes, and Commentary

Ἢ

Fe PE aE =v

tie ae

NUV

5

“i

LA sa

senate

vor

11.511 TO VSNadsns 29d

#

Fig. 1 (frontispiece): The palm tree image is the emblematic symbol of the FG, also known as the Palmen-Orden [Order of the Palms]. It was chosen for its hardiness and utilitarian qualities to match the order’s motto “Alles zu Nutzen” [All For a Purpose] (Neumark 56-63; also Hille). The four banderoles around the border have been borrowed and added by the author, Milag—with likely assistance of Harsdérffer—from various sources (i.e., they do not belong to the society" original device), either verbatim or in paraphrase: Top: NIL PLACITUM SINE PACE DEO [Without peace, nothing pleases God], from the Psychomachia of Prudentius (see note below to the Exodium/ Conclusion, 339).

Bottom: RATIO ULTIMA

REGUM

[The final argument of kings]. Tradi-

tionally formulaic for the act of declaring war, in the present context the motto suggests rather the policy of kings—and emperors—of seeking peace.

Right: SUSPENSA QUIETE ARMA [Arms suspended serenely]. The visual scene here of the shield affixed as a trophy to the tree trunk suggests an adaptation of Prudentius, Contr. Sym. 2.561: “suspensa gravi telorum fragmina trun-

EE

TIMA Fig. 1. Aulaea Romana,

REGUM.

i

/

Contra Peristromata Turcica Expansa: Sive Dissertatio Emblematica,

Concordiae Christianae Omen Repraesentans (Nuremberg, 1642). Frontispiece, “Duras jungat concordia mente.” (Courtesy of Herzog August Bibliothek, Wolfenbiittel.)

Li

co” [the broken weapons hung on a heavy-laden tree-trunk; trans. Thomson].

Left: MOX CONCESSURA CAMOENIS [Soon (these tapestries) will give place to the Muses]. This motto seems to have been created by the author in anticipation of the poetic part of the work, which will feature verses by Claudian.

266

EMBLEMATICA

Max Reinhart

AULAEA ROMANA, CONTRA PERISTROMATA TURCICA EXPANSA:

ROMAN TAPESTRIES, EXHIBITED IN OPPOSITION TO THE TURKISH TAPESTRIES:

SIVE DISSERTATIO EMBLEMATICA, CONCORDIAE CHRISTIANAE OMEN REPRAESENTANS.

OR AN EMBLEMATIC TREATISE REPRESENTING THE PROSPECT OF CHRISTIAN CONCORD.

1. ad Corinth. XIV. v. ΧΧΧΠΙ.

1 Corinthians 14:33

EXVrget protInVs IehoVa, qVla non est DEVS DIssenslonls, seD PaCls.

Jehova will rise up straightway, “For he is not a God of confusion, but of peace.”

267

Title page 1. ad Corinth. XIV. v. XXXIII.] Emends orig. “1. ad Corinth. XIV. v. XXX.” EXVrget protInVs TehoVa) The author has added this clause, a variation on a common prophetic phrase (e.g., Is. 14:22, “et consurgam super eos dicit Dominus exercituum’), to the biblical reference.

EXVreet protInVs IehoVa, qV 1a non est DEVS Dissenslonls, seD PaCls] Chronogram for 1642: XVIVIVVIDVDIIIDCI, ie, DDDCXVVVVVIIIIIII.

268

EMBLEMATICA

Max Reinhart

269

Tertul. ad Martyr. Pax Christianorum bellum est

Tertullian, 70 the Martyrs: The peace of Christians is war to the Devil.

Studioso Lectori

the Scholarly Reader.

Diabolo.

Typographus S. D. NIhil sub Sole novum!! ijsdem sub orbibus rotant vices rerum; ijsdem floribus, folijs, fructibus semina repullulant; easdem quas in se mare recipit undas, post spumä sinuosd ad littora revolvit; Phoebe, nova fraternis occursibus videtur, sed ipsa est eadem, quae menstruis spatijs cornutam adauget minuitque frontem: Quin ipse Sol, nunc obliquo rutilat splendore, post coelo corusca rectis, refractis mox radijs roseum extollit, conditque caput, idemque est illis populis, quos natura pedibus nostris ὁ contrario subditos posuit. Quid est quod fuit? ipsum quod futurum est. Quid est quod factum est? ipsum quod faciendum est,* Nihil sub Sole novum! Radicata universa rerum varietas perennat. A mundi origine qui rationem ducere amat, affir- met oportet, prima sibi saecula Novitatis praeventionem vindicare, nostrum hoc aevum

The Printer greets

“There is nothing new under the sun!”! All that exists comes and goes in regular rotations; seeds sprout again with the same flowers, foliage, and fruits; the same waves that the sea receives into itself it later rolls again, churning and foaming, to the shore; Phoebe appears new within kindred orbits, but she is ever the same, increasing and diminishing her horned face in monthly cycles. The sun itself indeed is shining red and low on the horizon; later, its rays now directly overhead, it shimmers in the sky; soon, its rays again bent, it raises its rose-colored head, then lowers it again. It is the same for those peoples whom nature has put opposite us under our feet. “What is that was? That which will be. What is done that has been done? That which shall be done.”* “There is nothing new under the sun.” The universal diversity of things is rooted forever in place. One who delights in reasoning from the

1.

Eccles, 1. ν. 10.

"

Eccles. 1:10.

2,

Eccles. 1. ν. 9.

2

Eccles. 1:9.

Epigraph

S. D.] Salutem dicit.

Tertul. ad Martyr.) Quintus Septimius Florens Tertullian (ca. 160-240), a presbyter in the Carthaginian church and noted Christian apologist, in dd

Nihil sub Sole novum] By opening with this well-known biblical adage, the author immediately challenges the premise of Per (in the printer's greeting) that the Old is inferior to the New.

tian of eternal salvation. The author of Au/ has adapted Tertullian’s wording (1.5.25): “quia pax vestra bellum est illi” [because your peace is war to him].

ipsum quod faciendum est] Vulg.: “ipsum quod fiendum est”

Martyras (ca. 197) encouraged the belief that martyrdom assures the Chris-

Studioso Lectori

Typographus] The printer Wolfgang Endter the Elder of Nuremberg (Endter,

A6v), composer of this foreword.

Novitatis] In classical Latin novitas could refer to a new temporal condition (eg, Ov, Æ 1.160: “haec anni novitas iure vocanda fuit” [that is the season

which rightly should have been called New Year] (trans. Frazer); only much later did the connotation arise of an entirely new age, as suggested here (see Niermeyer, 942).

270 habere Antiquitatem:

Max Reinhart

EMBLEMATICA utque de temporis

(sit venia

verbo,) indole,

verissi-

mum videatur Platonicum illud dogma: Omnem scientiam in recordando

consistere, quéd recondita eruditionis semina, fatali quadam serie floreant,

defloreant, maturescant, decidant, revirescant. Enimvero primi mortalium,

si ijsdem ac nos praesidiis (inter quae Typographia haud ultimas

obtinet,) in-

structi fuissent; nae, ingeniosissimis observatis, altiora & praestantiora quam

nos patrassent: quod si vero nos, nullis subsidijs adnixi, circa prima artium inventa versaremur, nostra certé socordia parum admodum, vel nibil ex usu, ad Posteritatem transmitteremus metus est; quippe quibus frugum affluentia, tanto negligentius perit, quanto uberius nascitur. Dies posterior discipulus est prioris, sed discipulus non est supra Magistrum, ? & habenda est ijs gratia, (si ingratitudinis nota vacare volumus,) quorum ductu & institutis, facilius aggredimur & firmius progredimur in omnium scientiarum stadijs & studijs. Admirationem sibi habeat Novitatis nomine palliata Varietas: *

levis est umbra, quam rei inusitatae intuitus protinus protendit, intercedens penitior contemplatio tollit, vel contrahit. Umbra est, inquam, amoena & jucunda, sed quae evadit, dum imminet. Exemplum sisto Turcica Peristromata, quae non ita pridem in publicum expansa, novitatis gratiam, post primum spectantium intuitum amisére. Quid autem? nil novi textorum officia calamo affectare; nil novi Principem

Platonicum illud dogma: Omnem scientiam in recordando consistere] The Platonic doctrine of anamnesis, or knowledge as recollection, is set forth in the Meno, where Socrates demonstrates that the slave boy has already a considerable fund of knowledge from which to draw. The allusion here supports the thesis that whatever may appear to be new has in fact been long in existence and is the most reliable foundation for the present and future. primi mortalium, si ijsdem ac nos praesidiis ... altiora & praestantiora quam nos patrassent] The ancients’ industriousness is valorized here by contrast to the indolence of moderns, who pale by comparison, despite historical and technical advantages including printing.

271

origin of the world must affirm that the first centuries anticipated the modern

age, whereas antiquity contains our age. Concerning the nature of time, as it

were, that familiar Platonic doctrine would appear to be true: “all knowledge consists of remembering.” For the hidden seeds of learning evolve in a preordained order: blooming, shedding blossoms, maturing, dying, returning to life. Considering their highest achievements, the earliest mortals, if they had enjoyed our advantages (and printing is scarcely the least of them), doubtless would have acccomplished higher and greater things than we ourselves. As for us, if we, not taking advantage of any of our resources, should concern ourselves with only the most primitive arts (altogether typical of our indolence), I fear that we would transmit nothing of use to posterity. To anyone possessing an abundance of fruits, this reminder: the more abundantly they grow, the more carelessly they are lost. Tomorrow is yesterday's pupil; but a pupil is not above his master, & and we should be grateful to our teachers (if we wish to avoid the accusation of ingratitude), by whose guidance and instruction we advance more easily and soundly through the stages of learning. Variety clad in the reputation of novelty may be admired for its own sake; Ὁ a glance at something unusual leaves an immediate slight impression; contemplation, penetrating deeper, eliminates, or reduces, that shadow, which is, as I say, pleasant and agreeable, but vanishes even as it is cast. As an example, I put forward the Turkish Tapestries, which, only recently published, lost the pleasure of novelty after the viewers’ first look. Why? Because in fact there was nothing new in feigning drawings on a weaving; edition, in addition to the sign, I indicate the page number (or section) of Per as well. Where the printer failed to note an obvious reference, I have attempted to do so.

Admirationem sibi habeat Novitatis nomine palliata Varietas| Per, 318.

levis est umbra] Aul criticizes Per for its novelty thesis by adducing several mo-

tifs and words that express a lack of substantiality and, in some instances, are

Dies posterior discipulus est prioris, sed discipulus non est supra Magistrum] This

meant to be associated with alleged Turkish immorality; in others, they may imply a want of seriousness, or vanity, even moral-mental opacity: e.g., umbra, tenebrae; levis, facilis.

lus super magistrum.”

nil novi Principem modo ad Imperium evectum oblationibus colere] The biblical references are to the giving of gifts to princes (2 Chron. 17:5) or withholding of the same (1 Sam. 10:27).

thought refutes Per (318) in the printer's greeting: “Sic dies posterior Discipulus est prioris, ut simul futuri veniat Magister.” Cf. Luke 6:40: “Non est discipu8] This special character will be used to represent the “radiant star” employed

by the printer to reference the corresponding passage in Per. In the present

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EMBLEMATICA

Max Reinhart

modo ad Imperium evectum oblationibus colere,* nil novi rerum imagines

est, quam arduum sit inter diversa sectantes, expedire Concordiam. Reliquum quod addam, votum est: DEUS Ter-Maximus protritis bellorum omnium machinis, Pacem Principibus pulchram, subditis utilem, artibus laetam,

nothing new in heaping gifts upon a prince lately borne to the τῆτοης;" nothing new in animating the images of things with words, or in creating emblems by the clever conjoining of picture and poetic words; nothing new in covering a dirty wall with a beautiful hanging in order to whitewash, with a certain show of piety, the machinations of infidels against the lives of Christians; nothing new for a Jew to fashion cabalistic mysteries from trifling jots and tittles and insidiously declare his hatred for Christiandom. But soon thereafter when a letter composed in opposition to the Tapestries (as you will readily see referenced by the radiant star: %), its equal in terms of inventive elegance, was submitted to me by a certain anonymous man, I decided to publish it for your sake, Scholarly Reader, in copper plates, woodcuts, and lead type. As I was carefully going about this task, a certain man of no small learning and conscience (I am constrained by discretion to withhold his name) opportunely brought me an excellent response to this letter; it is attached below as the Postscript. I believe that your Muses will be unable to spurn the delicious delights of this work, for neither cost nor labor should be spared in the adornment of this garment. But whatever value and greatness these tapestries may have is hardly my place to judge. As I said, they are pleasant and perhaps not unuseful, but everyone will have plenty of their own ideas; and since the character of every individual is unique, agreement in matters of custom, language, and thought is rare. It is therefore easy to imagine with what difficulty agreement can be arranged among diverse parties. In conclusion, I might

3.

3.

verbis animare, & ex picturae atque poésews ingenioso consortio Emblemata

condere; nil novi impurum parietem specioso condecorare velario, & in

Christianorum capita machinationes infidelium, quasi fidelià quadam deal-

bare; nil novi homini Ebraeo ex levissimis quibusque apicibus, cabalistico more mysteria effingere, & odium in Chri- stianam gentem

solertia quadam profiteri. Cum autem nuper Anonymi cujusdam epistola, quae contra Peristromatum institutum [ut * Stellae radio lubens observabis,] pari inventionis elegantia nititur, mihi submissa fuerit: accurare singula aeneis, ligneis & plumbeis typis, in gratiam Tuam, studiose Lector, publici juris facere, consilium habui. Haec dum agebam solicité, Vir quidam non ineruditae pietatis, (cujus nomen pro ea qua est modestia conticere cogor) ad praedictam epistolam opportune mihi egregium obtulit responsum, quod mantissae loco ad calcem videbis: ratus quippe non posse Musas tuas amoenis hujus studij amoenitatibus indignari, & neque sumptibus, neque laboribus parcendum esse, adornando hance spartam. Qualia verd quantaque haec sint, meum haud est temeré interponere judicium. Jucunda videntur, ut dixi, nec forte inutilia, sed suo quisque abundet

sensu,

quia peculiaris cuique frontis est character, rara morum, verborum

& cogitationum conformitas: inde facilis conjectura ducenda

* exempla extant 1. Sam. 10. v. 27. 2. Chron. 17. v. 5.

poësews] Imperfect transliteration apparently of Greek gen. pl. ποίησεως < ποίησις [poetry or poetic word]. homini Ebraeo] Rev Ben-Cophen; Per, 322.

Anonymi cujusdam] The anonymous author of Au/ is Martin Milag (see discussion at Per, 289-90). For the personal and institutional facts of his life, see A. Schmidt, and Conermann 1985 (315).

epistola| Class. Lat., epistula. The “letter” as described by not only the following “Occasion and Purpose,” which is sonal letter, but, apparently, the set of emblematic chapters resents an expansion of the usual classical understanding

the printer includes in the form of a peras well. This use repof epistula as letter/

epistle or (imperial) edict; even “written communication” (Lewis and Short)

273

Examples: 1 Sam. 10:27; 2 Chron. 17:5.

does not embrace the range granted it in Aud. Nor did the medieval epistola typically apply to an “epistolary document” (Niermeyer: “als Brief verfasste Ubertragungsurkunde”) of pamphlet-length scope. Vir quidam non ineruditae pietatis . . . obtulit responsum) Harsdorfter, who at Milag’s request supplies the postscript. (cujus nomen pro ea qua est modestia conticere cogor)] Endter, perhaps at Hars-

dorffer’s insistence, did not make public the name of his most renowned author

until 1653, and then only at the urging of his readers (Endter, AGr).

DEUS Ter-Maximus| Formula for the Triune God, often found as “Deus Ter

Optimus Maximus.”

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Max Reinhart

literis necessariam, ad majora Ecclesiae suae emolumenta sufficere dignetur propitius! Vale.

Occasio & consilium

properly add a prayer: “May the Thrice Greatest God, once the engines of all wars have been overthrown, grant a peace that is fair to rulers, beneficial to their subjects, fertile for the arts, and conducive to letters, to the greater advantage of His Church.” Farewell. Occasion and Purpose

Scriptionis.

of this Writing. For the Father of the Fatherland.

P. P.

NOsti, Virorum Amicissime, Serenissimi Principis nostri amorem ad bonas literas literatosque; affirmantis ex solida historiae fide: Regna, nunquam, nisi sub eruditis Regibus felicia fuisse. Pulchré profecto, armata quippe Sapientiae Dea, fulcra fluctuantibus impertitur rebus, secundis moderata subministrat consulta, & egregio Prudentiae temperamento Imperiorum incolumitatem

moderatur. Unde quaeso validum Virtutis robur, nisi ab animi cultu? unde autem ille cultus nisi studiorum seminibus foecundatus? Nec ideo Magnates Scholasticis umbraculis captivi, singula melioris & mollioris aetatis momenta libellis volvendis impendant oportet; sed dum doctorum utuntur consuetudine, & viva eruditionis (ut sic dixerim) exemplaria generosa judi-

cij rectitudine intuentur, descendit sensim in aures & animum, negotiorum notitia, verborum circumspectio, sententiarum gravitas, memoriae admiratio,

sensuum profunditas, cogitationum expeditum acumen & comitas illa, quae a studiis humanioribus, (absque indignitate illorum)

275

divelli non potest, arcano

quodam in moribus efformatur modo. Sed haec ultra epistolae limites prove-

Occasio & consilium Scriptionis Occasio & consilium Scriptionis] The writer of this introductory letter, as of the following pamphlet text, is Milag. P P| Patri Patriae, “Dedicated to the Father of the Fatherland” (here, Prince

Ludwig of Anhalt-Kéthen), mimicking the honorific conferred by the ancient

Roman Senate.

Virorum Amicissime| Harsdôrffer.

Serenissimi Principis nostri] Ludwig, Prince of Anhalt-Kéthen (1579-1650), founder (in 1617) and then president of the FG.

Unde quaeso validum Virtutis robur, nisi ab animi cultu?] In addition to Erasmus, Guillaume Budé, and Melanchthon, the courtly culture of Dessau and Bernburg in which the young Ludwig was inculcated, was especially stamped

You know, O kindest of men, the love of our Fairest Prince for humane letters and learned men, who declares upon the firm ground of history that, “Kingdoms were never blessed except under learned kings.” The Goddess of Wisdom, beautifully arrayed, but also armed, imparts a stable foundation in troubled times, furnishes reasonable counsel in good times, and regulates the security of empires with prudent temperance. Whence, I ask, comes the power of virtue except from the cultivation of the mind? and whence that cultivation except fructified by the seeds of study? Now, it is not fitting that great men spend each and every moment of a better and gentler life as captives in scholastic groves, thinking about little books. However, in their practice of scholarship and their life of learning (so to speak) as they conscientiously study eminent models of knowledge, there descends slowly but surely into their ears and minds an insight into worldly affairs, an appreciation of words, a seriousness of mind, a fascination with memory, a depth of feeling, a liberality of reasoning, and a kindness that is inseparable from with the conversatio theory and practice found in Baldassare Castiglione’s //

libro del Cortegiano (Hoppe, 139).

Regna, nunquam, nisi sub eruditis Regibus felicia fuisse] The Renaissance tradition of learned statesmen originated with the Florentines Coluccio Salutati and Leonardo Bruni and continued into late humanism in the political writings from Jean Bodin and Giovanni Botero to Justus Lipsius and Hugo Grotius,

among many others (see e.g., Kithlmann 1972; Stolleis 1998; Garber 2000:

“Paris” and “Republic of Letters”). Milag emphasizes a self-cultivation that bows to the new practical learning (solida doctrina) undergirded by Erasmian Christian-humanistic theory (/itterata pietas). Hoppe (146) mentions a num-

ber of contemporary documents related to the art of governing, or Regierkunst, that Ludwig acquired during his six-year Grand Tour (see also Dünnhaupt 1979 and 1990-93).

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EMBLEMATICA

henda, & laboratissimae scriptionis opus factura illi, qui justo ambitu circumscribere voluerit conversationum

emolumenta, permitto: singula autem

quae ad hoc negotium dici possunt, in Principe nostro cum stupore expressa, adnotare fas sit. Egregium specimen memorare placet, quod nuper, instituta de Peristromatibus Turcicis dissertatione, inter doctos suae familiaritatis exhibuit. Invitante enim veris serenitate, in ejus villam evocati concessimus & cum

sub arborum umbra sedilibus positis consedissemus, sic prior infit: Quod de Turcicis Peristromatibus quaeris, Princeps Celsissime, dubia vestigatione constat, & conjectura potius, quam evidentid aestimandum erit.

Formam si respicio, idem usu venire videtur, quod tapetibus, qui si vertuntur, deformiores sunt; certos quippe nodos, vel rudiora contextus fila observavimus, quibus Gallici idiomatis venustas mutilata videtur. Materiam vero facundum & foecundum Galli cujusdam commentum arbitror, in gratiam Cardinalis Richelij adornatum, cujus praecipua rerum insatiabiliter ad famam diriguntur. Quemadmodum enim, pergit ille, Psittaci olim, 4 Domino suo laute in cavea accepti, atque edocti, arguté proclamarunt, μέγας Θεὸς Yaquy: ita alumni ejus, quos regijs sumptibus alit, ut & delitias faciant, & in orbem quaquaversum dispersi magnificis elogijs, eam quae infra divinitatem est, Nomini suo tribuant apotheosim. Hinc jactant passim, Armandum Richelium, Francici instituta de Peristromatibus Turcicis dissertatione] Milag’s description of the

meeting, which offers an extraordinarily vivid picture for the German Baroque, seems to be the only reference in the standard literature on the FG to this particular colloquium. veris] That is, spring 1642.

cum sub arborum umbra sedilibus positis consedissemus] An undated copper engraving by Peter IRelburg of just such a gathering of the society may be found in Fischetti (145), as well as on the web page Fruchtbringende Gesellschaft. Die deutsche Akademie des 17. Jahrhunderts; see www.die-fruchtbringende-gesell schaft.de/11-)-Ueber-die-Edition.huml.

conjecturé| Quintilian (Just. 3.6.29-30) defines coniectura as a single-issue theory in which multiple facts are lacking, in which case it may provide some reasonable path τὸ the truth: “id est directione quadam rationis ad veritatem” (“that is to say ¢argeting the reason on truth”; trans. Russell).

certos quippe nodos, vel rudiora contextus fila observavimus, quibus Gallici idi-

omatis venustas mutilata videtur| The negative images here from the art of

Max Reinhart

277

(yet does not demean) civilized studies and is mysteriously molded into one’s character. But I grant that this topic exceeds the limits of a letter and greatly complicates the task of a writer whose modest desire is only to define the advantages of polite culture. It does seem right, however, to comment on certain related matters that have been expressed in admiration for our Prince. It is pleasant to recall the distinguished example that he set not long ago for the learned men of his circle at an arranged discussion of the Turkish Tapestries. Having accepted an invitation to his estate in the loveliness of early spring, we placed chairs in the shade of the trees and sat down. Then the first person began to speak: “With respect to your question about the Turkish Tapestries, Most High Prince, it proceeds by uncertain method and must be accepted more on conjecture than on evidence. When I consider its form, something appears to happen as it does with tapestries: when they are rearranged, they become rather distorted. We have observed certain knotty points and rough strands of the composition as a result of which the charm of the French idiom is disturbed. I, for one, think that the writing is a facile and prolix commentary of some Frenchman, prettified to favor Cardinal Richelieu, whose chief actions are directed insatiably toward fame. For the writer talks like those parrots that used to be kept by their master in an elegant cage and trained to chant: ‘Psapho is a great god!’ Thus Richelieu’s weaving imply criticism of Per on several levels: linguistic, historical, logical,

and no doubt ethical as well, as the following narrative would suggest. See the editor’s introduction to Per (291) on how the French writer has overwritten

the original Ottoman template.

μέγας Θεὸς Ψάφων)] Emends “Vagov.” The parable of Psapho’s birds concerns a wealthy Libyan who trained birds to sing this phrase out of self-pity for his lack of renown. Erasmus traces it back to the Philosophumena (29.4) of the second-

century CE sophist Maximus of Tyre (Erasmus, Adag. 1.2.100).

alumni] alumnus, an ecclesiastical word dating from the sixteenth century (its

social history goes back to the client/patron relationships in ancient Rome), is applied here to Richelieu clients (in French, créatures), many of whom, such

as che well-known propagandist Jean Louis Guez de Balzac, he placed in key

governmental positions and retained at considerable expense. The virulent anti-Richelieu polemic La voix gemissante du peuple chrestien et catholique [Τῆς

Groaning Voice of the Christian and Catholic People, 1640?], which Harsdôrffer softened before translating into Latin as Gallia Deplorata | Lamentation

Max Reinhart

EMBLEMATICA

278 Imperij Genium, summam

regij consilij Intelligentiam, Eminentissi-

mum mortalium, Galliae Angelum tutelarem, cujus sit nova saeculis

fata condere, futura temporum aenigmatibus evolvere & totius mundi for-

tunam uno veluti digito moderari, ec. fastum vero ejus Poëta hoc epigram-

mate egregie (ut obiter dicam,) est ultus, cum statuam ad praesens imperanti LUDOVICO XIIL. in area regia™ Lutetiae Parisiorum statuerat, Regem in

hunc modum affatus:

Justus inermis eras, Armandus TE armat inique; Armandum armatus sternito, justus erts.

Hance Tibi Richelius statuam, sed conscius, Orbis

Vim metuens, speciem Regis & arma gerit,

creatures, whom he educates in royal opulence to fabricate and disperse delicious tidbits all over the world, bestow, in magnificent eulogies, a glorification on his name that is little short of divinity. They toss about such phrases as ‘Armandus Richelieu, Genius of the French Empire’; ‘Highest Intellect of Royal Counsel’; ‘Most Eminent of Mortals’; ‘Guardian Angel of France, whose destiny is to establish new destinies for the centuries, to unroll the future in riddles, and to regulate the fortune of the entire world as if with a single finger, and so forth. But after Richelieu had erected a statue to the present king, Louis XIII, in the Royal Square at Paris,* a certain poet took vengeance on Richelieu’s pride with the following witty epigram (as I may note in passing), addressing the king in this manner: You, the Just, were unarmed; Armandus arms you unjustly. Now armed, throw down Armandus, and you will be just. This statue Richelieu erects to you, but with a guilty conscience; Fearing the orb’s power, he bears the king’s image and arms. He has either conquered you, or desires, as a slave, to conquer you, Or claims as his own what you have done. Do you truly understand? Though he praises you, yet he

Vel Te jam vicit, vel te vult vincere servus,

Vel quae gessisti, praedicat esse sua.

Quas tibi dat laudes ergo, si intelligis, ipse

Se Regem, statuam te, LUDOVICE, vocat.

Verisimile itaque est, (concludebat ille aliis etiam in hanc sententiam addi-

tis) voluisse Peristromatum inventorem Richelij prolixas de «Βάν, p. 16> bello Turcico spes gratioso hoc solari mendacio, ejusque Nomen apud Orientis Populos etiam celebratum extollere. Non video, reponebat alter, quo indicio eruditae falsitatis arguam Turcica Peristromata, minio, non mendacio eru-

279

Calls himself king, and you, Louis, a statue.

for France, 1641], adduced further more-or-less synonymous terms for these clients, such as “Professores et Scriptores,” “Panegyristae,’ or simply “adulatores.”

“Therefore, it is quite likely; the speaker concluded after adding some remarks in the same vein, “that the author of the Tapestries hoped by his mendacious flattering to pamper Richelieu’s ambitious hopes for a Turkish War and even to extol the fame of his name among the nations of the East.” “I do not see, retorted another, “upon what evidence I could impute specious reasoning to the Turkish Tapestries; it blushes with red dye, not lies. The circumstances are explained by the author and verified by others, leaving us little reason to doubt them. He proclaims a horrible threat exists in the army of the Turks. Let us pray to the God of Peace that it never come to pass! How dreadful! How wretched is the condition of man: wild beasts, ants, shell fish, sea, land, trees, etc., all presage the coming storm. Yet humans remain oblivious to it. Never, if the truth please, could barbarians conquer Germany when she was

ejus Poéta\ An unidentifiable critic of Richelieu.

4.4

inermis ... Armandus... armat ... Armandum armatus\ The wordplay on the stem avm- prepares the warning in the following paragraph concerning the alleged threat of the Turks (“de Turcorum armis,” “saevientia extorquere arma poterit”).

Nunquam, si vera placent, nunquam Barbari Germaniam

bescunt: circumstantias quippe ab autore relatas, aliorum etiam fide comper-

tas habemus, & nulla dubitandi ratio refragatur. Quam atrocia de Turcorum armis fama nunciat! ne succedant DEUM Pacis veneramur! Misera, eheu! misera mortalium conditio est: bruta, formicae, conchae, mare, terra, arbores, &c. imminentes praesagiunt tempestates; homo irruentia non praesentit

mala. Nunquam, si vera placent, nunquam Barbari Germaniam undique armatam,

4.

inermem

magis

&

exaninem

obruere potuissent,

quam

si nunc

à la place royale.

La Place Royale [i.e., present-day Place des Vosges]. undique armatam,

inermem magis & exaninem obruere potuissent, quam si nunc Christianorum dis-

cordiis interfunderentur.| This assertion is understandable only in terms of the continuing paronomasia on avm-. “Germaniam ..,. armatam” refers, not to some

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EMBLEMATICA

Christianorum discordiis interfunderentur. At, esto res plané fictitia, (largior quod comprobatum haud est,) benefica fraus successu commendanda foret,

quae pericula meditanda insinuat, fratrum animis gliscen- tia

odia, & manibus saevientia extorquere arma poterit: non secus ac utili dolo Matres tenellos, inanibus terriculamentis ad frugem coërcere moris habent.

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281

thoroughly armed. But if now they should invade the discordant Christian world, Germany would be overrun, for she is unarmed and exhausted. Let us suppose, however, that the Tapestries is only a fiction (though that is hardly certain); it would still be a beneficial ruse with a commendable outcome,

rationis quodam deliquio laboramus; nae, nos minis, aut fama, (quae ex facili

for it points to dangers to be considered. The Tapestries aims to wrest the swelling hatred from the souls of our brothers and the savage arms from their hands. Mothers similarly have the habit of coercing their youngsters for good by some useful deceit, such as harmless frights. Upright and correct advice, which is hated chiefly as a silent reproach to weakness, needs pleasant artifices in order that empty and senseless anger might be defused, passions soothed, and remedies applied as befit the circumstances. But let us grant that the Turkish Tapestries fails to achieve that happy result. In my estimation, it still deserves praise for its elegance; whether I value it for the polished form of its invention, the distinction of its emblems, or its graceful complexity, prodigious effort will be required of anybody who would imitate it.” When he had added yet other remarks, I could not resist stating my own opinion, which I believed could be made to conform to what others had said, in words more or less as follows as they came into my mouth: “It seems avain and inconclusive victory,’ I said, “to contend by means of conjectures, as though we were blindfold gladiators. But this is certain, that Christians can take their stand the more valiantly against the onslaught of barbarians the more firmly they testify to the sanctity of heavenly doctrine in deed

former German military readiness, but to a presumed former state of German concord. Because discordia now prevails, Germany must be called “inermis.”

tion for the afflicted to have omitted no duty in seeking to avert catastro-

Proba profecto rectaque consilia, quae imprimis tacita imbecillitatis exprobra-

tione odiosa sunt, blandis artibus indigent, ut vana sine viribus ira deferuescat, affectus leniantur & ex necessitate eventuum remedia admittant. Licet autem hujus instituti felicitatem Turcica Peristromata non consequantur, apud me tamen elegantiae habebunt laudem, sive concinnam inventionis formam, sive decoram Emblematum difficultatem aestimem, quam imitari qui voluerit, prolixé experietur. In hanc opinionem cum & alia plura addidisset, non potui mihi imperare, quin & meam sententiam, quam aliorum dictis conformandam cogitaveram, addicerem his aut similibus, ut tunc in ore nascebantur, verbis:

Andabatarum more, inquiebam, conjecturis decertare, vana victoria videtur

& ambigua. sed hoc constat, validius Christianos contra impetum Barbarorum stare posse, si doctrinae coelestis sanctitatem, factis quam verbis, γέ, quam in ore penitius commonstrarent. (Solatio ad minimum afflictis, nihil omisisse pietatis ad eluctandam ruinam.) Sed cum nullam ad satietatem vindictam efferatio humani sensus sibi fingere novit, quippe dolore iracundiae,

rather than in word, in action rather than in boasts. (It is at least a consola-

phe.) But when human feeling has become so savage that it can imagine no

benefica fraus] The topos (also in the form bonum dolus) of the “beneficial deceit” or “good ruse” is found as early as Homer (Od. 1.296) and runs through

satisfactory revenge, surely we labor under the pain of anger, under a certain deficiency of reason. In truth, we shall never be able to restrain the spirits

reason of state. Grotius discusses its use at length in Bel. 3.1.6ff., where fraus and dolus are employed interchangeably.

Varro, Erasmus (Adag. 2.4.33) supposes that one of Varro satires must have borne the title “Andabatae” and is therefore the source for the proverb “blind-

classical literature (e.g., Verg., den. 2.390)

into the Renaissance writings on

apud me tamen elegantiae habebunt laudem] The second speaker acknowledges his admiration for the aesthetic beauty and prodigious craftsmanship of Per, which to his mind alone justifies the attention they are receiving. Harsdôrffer, the translator of Per, will claim in the postscript to Au/—perhaps a politically correct concession to the FG, as I have argued (Per, 297-99)—to regret having been seduced by it. Andabatarum more) Recalling the Andabatae of Nonius Marcellus, who cites

fold gladiators.” In the present context of Christian behavior, it is likely chat the author took it from one of the Church Fathers; Jerome (Helv. 5; in Migne,

PL 23.168) describes Helvidius (who insisted that Mary also had other chil-

dren) waving his sword about in the darkness, as blindfold gladiators do.

efferatio humani sensus . . . dolore iracundiae, rationis quodam deliquio laboramus] The question about the relation between good speech (or counsel)

and reason as the basis for effective communication arises often in the classical literature (e.g., Cic., Leg. 1.6.27). When the immanent principle of reason

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affluit et effluit,) armorum furias compescere haud potuerimus. Tanta verò

of war by threats or by reputation (which readily comes and goes). Those tapestries are in fact not so great but that the pen of any author turned to the task could easily weave something similar or even more erudite.” “In that case,” the Prince concluded, “I advise and encourage you to amuse yourself in composing a delightful work of this sort for us. Enjoy letting your pleasant meditations flow, as you said, from an ‘easy pen: If you wonder about a subject for your work, then let it be this: an omen of the fervently desired peace that may be favorably brought to pass by the Greatest and the Best God! The Best God, I say, the Greatest, in whose imitation our ruler, though he be the greatest, also seeks to be called the best by posterity (of which this perpetual war offers little hope). We are assuming as a result of the Imperial Diet of Regensburg that war ships are halted, or have been halted, and that Germany is being directed into the port of public concord and public tranquility. But if this hope be lost, we may exclaim with Claudian:

non sunt ea ipsa Peristromata, ut non similia & magis erudita pronus cujusvis

contexere possit calamus.

Igitur, Te moneo, subjungebat Princeps, & hortor, ut amabilem nobis ejus-

modi velis ludere operam. Gaudebis jucunda meditamenta, ex facili, ut dixti, calamo effundere. De argumento Scriptionis interrogas? si ita videbitur, esto, desideratissimae Pacis Omen, quod Deus Optimus Maximus ratum faciat propitius! DEUS inquam Optimus, Maximus, cujus imitatione IMPERATOR noster, qui Maximus cum sit, Optimus tamen apud Posteros (de quibus perpetuato bello vix spes superest) audire mavult. Praesume, quae trahuntur Comitia Ratisbonensia, ponere vel posuisse rates belligeras, & Germaniam in Concordiae & Tranquillitatis publicae portum deduxisse. Qué spe elusa, cum Claudiano exclamare licet: durae quis terminus unquam sortis erit?> Enimvero, ut Turcica Peristromata mania

(utinam etiam inania!) con-

sulta, gratioso modo attollunt; sic ingenij tui artes pulchrius exercebit, jucundior 5,

in Ruf. 2. 89. & 90.

is wanting, volatile emotions dictate human actions (e.g., Cic., Off. 1.29.102). Reason, with which in the animal kingdom man alone is endowed, must guide the process to end war.

IMPERATOR noster] Holy Roman Emperor Ferdinand III (τ. 1637-57). Comitia Ratishonensia] In session since 18 September 1640. On 25 December 1641, agreement was reached among the Habsburgs, France, and Sweden to

283

Will there ever be an end to our hard lot?°

And so, whereas the Turkish Tapestries uses pleasant means to brandish monstrous threats (may they prove futile!), so the more nobly will the arts of your talent be exercised, and the more delightful the matter of my

5.

Ruf 2.89-90.

eminently quotable panegyrics on courtly and military subjects enjoyed a lively revival in the Renaissance (Barr). Aul develops its own argument to the constant accompaniment of Claudian’s lines—some 36 citations in all (plus another six times in Harsdôrffers postscript). If indeed Milag attribution to Prince Ludwig of this reference to Claudian is accurate, Ludwig’s interest in

undertake peace negotiations in Osnabriick and Miinster, a hope that did not materialize until the end of 1644. The Diet of Regensburg initially defined a general cease-fire as one of its major targets, but within only a few months, this was dropped as unrealistic, in part because Louis XIII rejected the olive branch extended by the Reichsstände [Imperial Estates], in part because of French mistrust of the Swedes, with whom a separate peace was being considered. Although a cessation of hostilities was negotiated between Brandenburg and Sweden in July 1641, and the Gosler Accord signed between the Welf Duke August of Brunswick and the emperor in January 1642, six more years of hostilities remained.

Ludwig may have been introduced to Claudian. While no explicit evidence is known, one may speculate with relative certainty that he will have become acquainted with Claudian’s work and reputation in Florence in 1598-99 during his year-long stay in that city as part of his Grand Tour (he was admitted into the literature and language society, the Accademia della Crusca, as its first German member). The fifteenth-century Florentine poets had laid special claim to

Claudiano] The late-empire poet Claudius Claudianus (ca. 370-404), whose

Ruf. 2. 89. & 90.] Emends orig. “Ruf 2.59.”

and knowledge of Claudian would help to explain the centrality of the poet's authority in this work. This raises the interesting question of where and when

Claudian—“quem plerique Florentinum fuisse putant,” Christoforo Landino

(213) wrote ca. 1474.

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votorum nostrorum materies. Bonum id factum dixére omnes; simulque mihi argumenti dignitatem gratulari coepére, ut tandem & blando Principis imperio adversari, & amicorum etiam rogationibus solicitus, negotium supra mei cala-

wishes.” All agreed that was well spoken and began to congratulate me on the merit of the subject. At length I could scarce refuse his flattering command, and, aroused by the entreaties of my friends, I was unable to excuse myself from the assignment on grounds of the mediocrity of my pen. I thus gave my solemn word to accept it, and a serious discussion ensued regarding a sacred war against the Ottoman tyrant. When at last night had called us to our rest, I began to ponder in my heart of hearts the burden that my bold promise had imposed on me. But before I explain the premises of my whole plan, I beg you by the bond of our friendship to agree to review this Penelopean web and repair the uneven threads of the weaving with your generous hand. I hereby choose you as my reader and adviser. Only after the work has been completed in all its parts shall I invite readers who are acute in observation, superior in discernment, and subtle in interpretation, who appreciate innovation; and I shall say, as did the Hebrews, “Look favorably.” I have no patience with cruel and shrill calumnies. As I dwelt on the sequence of ideas throughout the remainder of the night, I recalled what we had been discussing: under what shadows the vast plague of the Orient lies concealed; how basely the sanctity of Christ’s message has been destroyed; how the impure law of the Qur'an, dissonant and offensive, has blinded the peoples of that huge empire; how cunningly Muhammad, Priest of Satan, author of mischief and violence, introduced

mi mediocritatem excusare & abnuere haud potuerim. Facta operis sponsione,

altior sermo de bello sa- cro contra Tyrannidem Ottomannicam

processit: Usque dum, tenebris ad quietem se vocati, mecum de onere, quod ob verbi temeritatem mihi impositum, penitius deliberarem. Priusquam autem totius consilij mei rationes tibi exponam, Te quaeso jure necessitudinis nostrae, ut contextum hujus operis Penelopaeum reddas & rudiora telae fila, amicà retexere dextera lubens, volens digneris. Te enim nunc mihi Lectorem & consultorem eligo: operi demum omnibus numeris absoluto, Spectatores admittam observatione acutos, contemplatione sublimes, suspicionibus subtiles, rerum insolitarum cupidos & Ebraeorum verbo dicam, Oculum bonum: malos enim & calumniis argutos necquicquam moror.

Meditanti de propositi serie, per spatia residuae noctis, subijt recordari habi-

ti sermonis: sub quantis tenebris amplissima Orientis plaga delitescat. quam

turpiter extinctà sanctimonia praeceptorum CHRISTI, impura Lex Alcorani,

absona & absurda, tam vasti Imperij populos occaecärit. Quam callidé Mahumetes Diaboli Mysta, malitiae, & militiae institor dogmata, non tam Christianae Religioni (ut textor Peristromatum putat,) * sed de bello sacro contra Tyrannidem Ottomannicam| Per, 287 and 294. Te quaeso ... ut contextum hujus operis Penelopaeum reddas & rudiora telae fila,

amica retexere dexterä lubens| The author's request for critical editorial over-

sight is not merely rhetorical; he is doubtless recalling the disasters—brought up by the first speaker at the spring colloquium of the FG with respect to the French distortions in Per (see above, 276, “certos quippe nodos . . .”)—to which a dishonest or careless writer can contribute.

contextum hujus operis Penelopaeum| Employing the ruse that she could not marry until she had finished weaving a shroud for Odysseus’ father, Penelope unraveled the weaving nightly so that it never reached completion (cf. Eras., Adag. 1.4.42). The author here suggests that Harsdôrffer perform for him the deed of unweaving, but in order to perfect the work. Te enim nunc mihi Lectorem & consultorem eligo] Harsdôrffer, the “kindest of

men,’ addressed by Milag at the outset of this introduction. In his postscript, Harsdôrffer will in turn address Milag as a friend (“ego amicus”).

285

dogmas that harmonize, not with the Christian religion (as the weaver

of the Tapestries thinks), # but with the vices of Christians, and at a time Ebraeorum verbo dicam, Oculum bonum] A literal translation of “Oculum bonum” gives “good eye,” but the collocation, by which Milag wants to express

something like “look favorably” (i.e., on his composition) makes little sense when back-translated into Hebrew (ayin tov [good eye], the opposite of ayin ra [evil eye]). Milag may be thinking of the phrase “to be good in the eyes of someone,’ which is found with great frequency in the Hebrew Bible (esp. as rendered in the King James Version, e.g., Gen. 1:10, 41:37; 1 Chron. 21:23).

Mahumetes Diaboli Mysta] In the historical Christian assertion of Muslim heresy, Muhammad was often associated with Satan or identified with the Alex-

andrian priest Arius, who denied the full divinity of Jesus. The Summula, for instance, of Peter the Venerable, speaks of Arianism “first sown by Arius, and then advanced by this Satan, that is, Muhammad” (Daniel, 210). (ut textor Peristromatum putat,) Ὁ] Per (Tapestry III).

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Christianorum vitijs congruentia insinuärit, illo tempore cum in Ecclesia puritas mentis spreta, Pietas curiosae eruditioni posthabita, & omnem cultum rituum absolveret observantia. Magna haec occasionis momenta firmando regno extitére, sed accessit insuper, vafrities ipsius Mahumetis, fictitia miracu-

when purity of mind was scorned in the church, when piety was valued less than shallow learning, and when observance of rituals freed one from all religious obligation. The main purpose of his strategy was to increase the empire; but then came in addition Muhammad’ craftiness, the false miracles, the fabricated conversations with angels, the license of polygamy (by which that illusionist anticipated the steady renewal of his military might), and the harshly restrictive chain of that sect, because the people dare not argue with or ignore any jot or tittle of their law under penalty of blasphemy. All of these things appeared, in light of the remarkable fortuity of their victories, to have been divinely ordained. Therefore, God, who wishes to be acknowledged and worshiped in his creatures, the images of his omnipotence, “gave those peoples over to a reprobate mind to do those things that are improper”;f thus “the light of truth began to grow dark in their tabernacles.”” Whereupon it came to me of a sudden that I could cast light and the splendor of that purest element of fire upon the Cimmerian darkness of the barbarians, and from this idea I have adduced all of the emblematic pictures to be elucidated in this work.

la, mentita Angelorum colloquia, polygamiae permissio, (unde militiae robur

praenoverat Praestigiator,) & arduum arctumque sectae vinculum, quod de Legislatae apicibus, sub poena sacrilegij non disceptare, non ambigere cautum habent: quae singula Victoriarum felicitate, divinitus commendata videbantur. DEUS itaque qui in creaturis, omnipotentiae suae imaginibus, agnosci, & admiratione coli vult, tradidit illos populos in reprobum sensum, ut facerent ea, quae non conyeniunt,° & sic lux Veritatis obtenebrescere coepit in tabernaculis illorum.’ Hinc in mentem venit, recté me Cimmerijs Barbarorum tenebris oggerere posse lucem & splendorem purissimi Elementi IGNIS, indeque omnium Emblematum figuras expediendas duxi. Porro quia mentio facta Cl. CLAUDIANI, inde alteram Emblematum partem, nempe lemmata omnia & singula seligere consilium habui, quippe 6.

7

287

Rom. 1. v. 20. 28.

Job. 18. υ. 6.

vafrities ipsius Mahumetis, fictitia miracula, mentita Angelorum colloquia, poly-

gamiae permissio] Christian commentators often sought to destroy the Islamic

pillar of the prophethood of Muhammad by claiming that he failed to uphold one or more of three criteria for being a genuine prophet: an honest life, true miracles, and lasting truth of one’s teachings. If it could be demonstrated that any of these three were untrue of Muhammad, then his enterprise would crum-

ble. The assertion that his conversations with the angels were fabricated was thought to be particularly damning, since the messenger of the Qur'an was said to have been the Archangel Gabriel. DEUS itaque . . . tradidit illos populos in reprobum sensum, ut facerent ea, quae

6.

Rom. 1:20 and 28.

7.

Job. 18:6.

Cimmerijs Barbarorum tenebris] The opening of Od. 11 describes wanderers coming into the country of the Cimmerians, which is locked in an impenetrable gloom. Strabo (Geog. 1.1.10) repeats the description as he acknowledges Homer. Cf. Lactantius (Inst. Div. 5.3): “O caecum pectus! O mentem Cimmeriis ... tenebris atriorem!” [O blind breast! O mind blacker than Cimmerian darkness], where Cimmerian gloom becomes figurative of moral and spiritual benightedness. In his postscript, Harsdôrffer suggests that the emblem has the power to illuminate the darkness, as Milag in his introduction had proposed to do.

basis for the (paraphrased) protasis (“DEUS itaque ...”) while 1:28 (cf. Vulg.:

purissimi Elementi IGNIS] Fire is one of the seminal and most versatile motifs in Aud, especially through the many quotations of Claudian. For example, it is key to the solution offered to the Turkish problem. In this instance, it stands

lux Veritatis obtenebrescere coepit in tabernaculis illorum] Adapts Job 18:6: “lux

signifying nothing. Other associations from fire are evoked in combinations, such as those built on youth: youth and lasciviousness, youth and belligerence, youth and falsity, youth and Islam.

non conveniunt] Paraphrases and adapts Rom. 1:20 and 28. 1:20 provides the “tradidit eos Deus in reprobum sensum ut faciunt quae non conveniunt”) provides the apodosis.

obtenebrescet in tabernaculo illius.”

Job. 18. v. 6.] Emends orig. “Job. 18. v. 5.”

for pure religious truth; elsewhere for Turkish madness, or as a false symbol

inde alteram Emblematum partem] That is, the mottoes.

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qui Jul. Caes. Scaligeri judicio, Maximus poéta est, in quo felix calor, cultus non invisus, temperatum judicium, dictio candida, numeri non affectati & acuté dicta multa sine ambitione.* Hoc autem ut videar praestitisse,

Now, mention has been made of Claudius Claudianus, from whose work I have decided to select the second element of all of the emblems. In the opinion of J. C. Scaliger, “he is the greatest of poets in whom there is auspicious warmth and no small amount of learning, a well-tempered judgment, a brilliant style, a natural feel for verse, and the ability to express himself with insight, yet unpretentiously.”* Moreover, in order to prove this convincingly, I thought it advisable to note the sources of the respective verses in the margin, making use of Martinus Antonius Del Rio’ edition. With all of these considerations in mind, I now present the title of my work in capital letters:

ex editione Martini Antonij Del-Rio numerum cujusvis versus notare ad

oram placuit. His perpensis titulum Operis maximis praescribo literis: AULAEA ROMANA, CONTRA PERISTROMATA TURCICA EXPANSA. Ut autem in limine appareat praesuppositi

ROMAN TAPESTRIES, EXHIBITED IN OPPOSITION TO THE TURKISH TAPESTRIES.

mei ratio, qua to-

tius Scriptionis nititur consilium; cingere hunc titulum cogito ambitu catenae,

à superstante lapide magnete compositae, ex annulis, non invicem innexis, sed

secreto complexu & veluti quodam amore attinentibus, cum epigraphe: 8.

Poët. L. 6.

Jul. Caes. Scaligeri| Julius Caesar Scaliger (Giulio Bordone, 1484-1558), Italian-

French humanist and physician, author of many important commentaries on classical authors, but most heralded as the author of the seven-volume Poetices (1561).

Maximus poeta est... acuté dicta multa sine ambitione] See Scaliger (Poet. 6.5). ex editione Martini Antonij Del-Rio] Martinus Antonius Del Rio (1551-1608),

Ad Cl. Claudiani opera (Antwerp, 1572; 2nd ed. 1596). An avid Jesuit supporter of the Counter-Reformation, the Antwerp professor of theology was a prolific editor and commentator on Seneca, especially the tragedies, and on Claudian. Del Rio was distraught over the course of historical events in the late sixteenth century, which he attributed to a general moral and spiritual decay. His interest in Seneca and Claudian must be seen as part of his project to provide an edify-

ing response. With his editions and commentaries on Seneca, he sought to appropriate the moral strength of Stoicism and found in Claudian a rich source of

adaptable phrases. The major study on Del Rio life remains Dréano.

4 superstante lapide magnete compositae) The magnes lapis, or “Heracleian stone,” was legendary for its marvelous power of physical attraction, which became figurative of some mysterious or divine power (cf. Plin. 36.126). Plato (Jon) used the metaphor to explain the poetic power that is transferred from the Muse to those whom she inspires; they in turn attract and inspire others through no real capacity of their own (cf. Eras., Adag. 1.7.56). The image of

289

So that the premise upon which my entire work rests be made apparent from the outset, I intend to enclose the title in a circuit of chain, kept in 8.

Poetices, bk. 6.

magnetic power became an attribute of the FG, symbolic of the virtue said to

constitute the bond of its membership, as expressed in the lines composed by

Harsdorffer for the sodality’s official green band (quoted by Neumark, 72): Wann du keine gleichheit findest / Unter hoch- und schlechtem Stand Sag / wie du Sie gleich verbindest.

Teutschgesinnter Tugend-Muht / Ist das reich- und gleichste Gut.

[If you find no equality in upper or lower class, think how you might combine them. German-minded virtue-consciousness is the best and

most equitable quality. ]

Neumark comments, “Und werden also wie durch eine Magnetische Kraft / und unbegreifliche Tugendregung alle Mitglieder dieser Hochlôbl. Fruchtbringenden Gesellschaft / wo Sie anders teutschhertziger Meinung / gleichsam wie eine Kette aneinander verbunden” (72; emphasis added) [And thus are

the members of this most honorable Fruitbringing Society, where they are of

German-hearted spirit, all bound together as in a chain by a magnetic force and

Max Reinhart

EMBLEMATICA

290 DURAS

JUNGAT CONCORDIA MENTES.

Augustini verbis planius dicam: Cernebam, inquit, à lapide ferreum annulum raptum, atque suspensum; deinde tanquam ferro, quod rapuerat, vim dedisset suam, communemque fecisset, idem annulus admotus est alteri, eumque suspendit: atque ut ille prior lapidi cohaerebat, accessit eodem modo tertius, accessit & quartus: jamque sibi per mutua connexis circulis, non implicatorum intrinsecus, sed extrinsecus adhaerentium, quasi catena

pependerat annulorum, &c. Hoc nimirum, quod in votis omnibus est, factum praesumo, & voveo, ut durae & duratae ad cruenta & plus quam Vatinia solemnibus insinuat) non deesse solent artifices, qui papyraceos tubos, sphaeras fusilibus praegnantes stellis, ignes rotatiles, & 42.

Prov. 13. v. 9.

43.

“ὦ variar Lect. 3. 6.

TAPESTRY IV.

The Kingdom of France.

Darkness is symbolic of sadness and death, light of happiness and life. Hence, the Persians, whenever they lost a king, would extinguish the sacred fire, thereby giving witness to their grief. The Romans celebrated the Floralia at harvest time with rejoicing and dancing around a roaring fire. Solomon interprets: “The light of the righteous rejoices: but the lamp of the wicked shall be put out.” In our ceremonies the use of candles has retained its complex significance since the time of the early church, such that, being thus reminded of eternal light, we may look forward with joy to the Lord’s Day. Franciscus Lusinius has traced the history of this custom. What more need be added? It is customary even today on happy public occasions to discharge loud pis42.

Fig. 5. Aulaea Romana, Contra Peristromata Turcica Expansa: Sive Dissertatio Emblematica, Concordiae Christianae Omen Repraesentans (Nuremberg, 1642). Aulacum IV, “Decrescere lilia vidi.” (Courtesy of Herzog August Bibliothek, Wolfenbütrel.)

43.

Prov. 13:9. Lusinius, Variar. Lect. 3.6.

AULAEUM

IV

Floralia\ Annual Festival of Flora, celebrated with the /udi Florales in April and May (Ov. £ 5.185-90, 277-334).

Franciscus Lusinius] Probably Francesco Luisini (also Luigini, 1523-68), who was noted especially for his commentaries on Horace.

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EMBLEMATICA

ipsum, ut sic loquar Vulcanum sub legibus in aéra transferunt. Ejusmodi ignes triumphales Galli, ante Victoriam partam, per inane jaculantur, unde mihi IV. Clypei digma obvium, Galliae Regnum hoc repraesentans modo. Fingo ludicros ignes, totos scintillarum imbres, flammas fusiles, volubiles, rotatiles, globosos, ut ipsum coelum in oculorum nostrorum viciniam descendisse

mentiantur, (facile enim haec, absque periculo & impensis verbis modo designanti succedunt). Imprimis verò enitescant oportet Lilia tria, ex conis ad coeruleum coeli campum, in azurea enim area pinguntur, (ut ἃ coelo Clodoveo divinitus data, quae tamen ab Eremita acceperat, significetur, * diplosa, cum verbo: DECRESCERE LILIA VIDI.*

Ignivoma Lilia, Galliae Regnum referunt, cujus fortunam belli memorare haud est hujus propositi. Splendeant inter haec bellorum incendia Lilia, levis

e& brevis claritas sensim evanescit & extinguitur, qualis nimirum Siciliano, Neapolitano & Navarraeo Regno affulsit, & totius Orientis amissa testatur possessio: unde Quicciardinus gentem Gallorum, felicem 44.

Malingre de la loy Salique Chap. 28. p. 74.

45.

Pasquier 7. de recherch. 15. p. 171. Claud. de Rapt. Pros. 3.241.

Vulcanum] Roman fire-god (Gk. Hephaestus).

Ejusmodi ignes triumphales Galli . . . per inane jaculantur] Allusion to the Greek proverb “You sing your song of triumph before your victory” found in a great variety of adaptations (cf. Eras., Adag. 1.7.55). Here, the valor of the French is put in question, since they are said to seek their reward before they have proven their mettle. designanti succedunt).| Period added.

(ut à coelo Clodoveo divinitus data, quae tamen ab Eremita acceperat, significetur,)| This is according to Claude de Malingré, French royal historian of the first half of the seventeenth century, in his Traicté de la Loy Salique (1614). Clovis, first Frankish king (r. early sixth century) and founder of the Merovingian dynasty, was renowned for his victories over the Romans, Alemanni, Burgundians, and Visigoths, resulting in the unification of Gaul, a dominion that included southwest Germany. In Claude de Malingré’s telling (chap. 28, p. 74), Clovis receives the fleurs de lis from a religious hermit in a forest. diplosa\ Gk. διπλὸς [twice as much].

DECRESCERE LILIA VIDI) Epigram originates with Claudian, though it

319

tols, to light torches at crossroads, and (as excess insinuates itself even into solemn ceremonies) for experts to be present who are authorized to shoot papyrus tubes into the air, balls loaded with molten stars, flaming wheels, and, as it were, Vulcan himself. Frenchmen toss about victory flares in this reckless manner even before a battle has been won. I present as a ready specimen the fourth shield, which stands for the kingdom of France. I fashion spectacular fires, veritable showers of sparks, molten, twisting, turning, spherical flames, so that one might imagine that the sky itself had descended into view (such things too easily appear, without proof and as an effect of excessive words). It is essential that the three lilies at the apex of the shield should emit light from the imprinted cones on to a blue sky, for they are painted in the central blue panel (interpreted as they were given to Clovis from the heavens by Providence—though he had in fact received them from a hermit)**—doubly, and bear the motto: I SAW THE LILIES WITHER.*

The fire-emitting lilies signify the kingdom of France, whose fortune in war needs hardly to be reminded of here. Although the lilies shine splendidly among the fires of these wars, their brilliance, once highly visible in the kingdoms of Sicily, Naples, and Navarre, fades and is extinguished; the total loss of the East is further testimony to this. Hence, Guicciardini maintains that the French will be more successful in acquisition than prudent in preservation, because the former is attributable to good fortune, the 44.

Claude de Malingré, Traicté de la loy Salique, chap. 28.

45.

Claud., Rapr. 3.241; cf. E. Pasquier, Les recherches (7.15.171).

may have been received in the seventeenth century by way of Etienne Pasquier

(1529-1615), whom Milag cites here. A lawyer and outspoken opponent of the Jesuits, author of the ten-volume Recherches de la France (vol. 1, 1560; com-

plete ed., 1665), Pasquier was associated with the Pléiade poetic society as well as with Montaigne and a circle of legal historians. levis & brevis claritas . . Navarraeo Regno affulsit| France's presence and influence in the kingdoms of Sicily and Naples began with the Italian Wars (from 1494) and largely ended with France’s withdrawal in 1559 in accordance with

the Treaty of Cateau-Cambrésis. Navarre originally came under French rule in the first quarter of the sixteentth century; in 1515, it became an indepen-

dent kingdom, only to be reannexed in 1589 by France. The influence of France

320

EMBLEMATICA

magis, conquirendo, quam prudentem conservando praedicat, quodque illud

ad fortunae, hoc ad Virtutis munus referendum sit. Petrus Gregorius, Gallos

omnium horarum esse homines, ex illo notat, quod in capite Galli gallinacei,

in cerebro, sine fractura exossato, (quod facilé contingit in multum elixato) Lilium observetur.* Sed abstineo manum, ne limitatum paginae spatium calamus transcurrat. Fimbriam his inscriptionibus irradio:

Ad FERDINANDI CAESARIS Symbolicam literam legatur:

Max Reinhart

latter to the duty of good rule. Pierre Grégoire takes his observation that the French are a people for all seasons from the phenomenon that, when the brain of a French rooster has been removed from the head intact (easily done by boiling well), a lily may be observed.” But let me break off here lest my pen outrun the limited space of my page. I illumine the border with these inscriptions: Near the symbolic initials of Emperor Ferdinand we read, BY HIS COURAGE HE WILL FIND A WAY.”

INVENIET VIRTUTE VIAM.”

He restrains the trumpets (the word lies hidden in silence),

Classica compescet (hoc reticentiae verbum latet)

THE MESSENGERS OF APPROACHING DEATH.*

VENTURAE NUNCIA MORTIS.*

He restrains the engines of war

Compescet bellica tormenta 46.

de praelud. opt. JCti. 1.11.2.

WITH MILD DECREES.* 46.

47.

Claud. de bell. Gild. 319.

47.

Gregorius, Praeludia optimi iurisconsulti, 1.11.2, p. 51. Claud., Gild. 319.

48.

id. de bell. Get. v. 98.

48. 49.

Claud., Ger. 98. Claud., Theod. 31.

peaked during the monarchy of Henri IV of Navarre (r. 1589-1610). Quicciardinus] Francesco Guicciardini (1483-1540), author of the renowned contemporary history of Italy, Storia d'Italia (1540). gentem Gallorum, felicem magis, conquirendo, quam prudentem conservando| Ref. to Guicciardini, Storia 4.3 (356), in the course of his remarks on the continuing French occupation of Italy as of 1498. In fact, Guicciardini attributes

the comment to Antonio Grimano (1434-1523; Doge of Venice, 1521), who in 1499 commanded the Venetian operations along the Adriatic in an ill-fated campaign against the Ottomans, who were allied with the French (Second Ottoman-Venetian War, 1499-1503).

321

circumstances. The epithet is turned in a prejorative direction in the present context, however, implying untrustworthiness; the Gauls were often accused of being /evissimi (e.g., Tac., Germ. 29). French writers took pains to deflect these opinions (e.g., Bodin, Rép. 5.1); passim in Scaliger, Poetices (1964); cf. Eras., Adag. 1.3.86). in capite Galli gallinacei| Grégoire (52) cites Plin. 10.21 as his authority in this

curious matter.

Galli gallinacei] The coq gaulois—seen today famously perched upon the gar-

den gate of the Palais de l’Elysée in Paris—already enjoyed in the Middle Ages

Petrus Gregorius] Pierre Grégoire (1540-1617), professor of law in Cahors as

the popular reputation as symbolic of the Gauls, and later of the French nation. It became the subject of a novel in 1560 by the emblematist Barthélemy Aneau

Grégoire resisted Jesuit influence.

purpose against the French is demonstrated by Milag’s use of Grégoire, who himself was citing a passage by Pliny (NH 10.21) about the aggressive behavior of roosters and how to control them. If one beats a rooster, Pliny observes, it will crow no longer. The force of the criticism is more apparent in Latin, which

of 1570 and, later, in Toulouse; legal adviser to Duke Charles III of Lorraine, who appointed him professor of both laws at the new Catholic university in Pont-à-Mousson, where William Barclay was also teaching and with whom

Gallos omnium horarum esse homines} Quintilian (Inst. 6.3.110) notes approvingly that Asinius Pollio was a man for all occasions (“omnium horarum

homo”), ie. he could be equally grave or gay in his speech, depending on the

(ca. 1510-61), Alector, ou le Coq). That it could be turned to ironic, or critical,

produces a pun: Gallus [a Gaul] plus gallinaceus [of a rooster]. de bell. Gild.

319.] Emends “de bell. Gild. 320.”

322

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Max Reinhart

MITIBUS ARBITRIIS.*

He restrains the instruments of war

Compescet arma

WITH NUMEROUS LAUDABLE ENTERPRISES.” LAUDIBUS INNUMERIS.5



49.

idem de Manl. Th. Cons, 31.

50.

id. de laud. Stil. L 1.24.

VENTURAE NUNCIA MORTIS] Claud., Get. 98, “venturae conscia mortis.”

LAUDIBUS INNUMERIS} laus here in the sense of “a praiseworthy thing” or “a laudable enterprise” (Lewis and Short, /aus, ILA.)

50.

Claudian, Stil. 1.24.

323

324

EMBLEMATICA

Max Reinhart

325

AULAEUM V. REGNUM POLONIAE.

Mlcat inter ignes Luna minores, inquit Poéta. Inter ignes, aulaea haecce

illustrantes, refulgeat oportet Luna Turcici Regni Symbolum. Errat enim Peristromatum Autor, Ὁ dum Turcos non corniculatas Lunas, sed igniaria tria in armis gestare scribit.®' Magna semper apud Judaeos & Turcos hujus Planetae observantia fuit ut non solum sub initium novilunij illis felicius cuncta evenire hodieque arbitrentur, sed ut in oculis semper habeant promissum DEI Abrahamo factum:* Crescet semen tuum in multitudinem exer51.

J: Willich. com. in Tacit. Germ. cap. 16. p. 453.

52.

Gen. 22.v..17.

TAPESTRY V. The Kingdom of Poland.

The moon shines among the lesser lights, says the poet. Among the fires illuminating these tapestries it is proper that the moon should shine, it being the symbol of the Turkish Empire. The author of the Tapestries is in error when he writes Ὁ that the Turks wear, not horned moons, but three instruments of fire on their arms.5! The Jews and the Turks always observed the moon carefully and thought then, as they do today, not only that everything turns out more fortuitously under the new moon, but also that they ought always to keep their eyes upon God's promise to Abraham:* “Your 51. 52.

Jodocus Willich, Commentarium in Tacitum, chap. 16, p. 453. Gen. 22:17.

AULAEUM V Micat inter ignes Luna minores, inquit Poéta.| Hor., Carm. 1.12.46-48, “micat

inter omnes / lulium sidus, velut inter ignes / luna minores” [“As the moon amid the lesser lights, so shines the Julian constellation among all others”; trans. Bennett].

Fig. 6. Aulaea Romana, Contra Peristromata Turcica Expansa: Sive Dissertatio Emblematica,

Concordiae Christianae Omen Repraesentans (Nuremberg, 1642). Aulaeum V, “Sarmaticis custodia ripis.” (Courtesy of Herzog August Bibliothek, Wolfenbiittel.)

Errat enim Peristromatum Autor, dum... igniaria tria in armis gestare scribit.

Per, 356.

J. Willich.| Jodocus Willich (1501-52), German professor of medicine at Frankfurt an der Oder, expert in ancient Greek culture; extraordinarily prolific scholar and commentator.

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EMBLEMATICA

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citus Coeli!® Quid igitur opponam Lunatis & Lunaticis Turcorum armis?

seed will increase into a multitudinous host of heaven!”55 With what, therefore, should I counter the lunar and lunatic warmongering of the Turks? I shall put a sun woven onto an asbestos cloth, rising into a flame from an extended sword on the curtain, with this inscription fashioned for it:

Solem linteo asbesto intextum & a gladio ex prodeunte Sipario, in ignem subsurgentem porrectum, adscita inscriptione:

SARMATICIS

CUSTODIA RIPIS.™

A DEFENSE ON THE SARMATIAN BANKS.5

Videtur, DEUM Religionem Christianam, «Ἐν, p. 46> contra ferocis-

simas Orientis gentes in clientelam Polonorum dedisse, quippe qui veluti in

salutis publicae propugnaculo constituti, invictis legionibus Barbarorum

immanitatem propulsarunt, & ad praesens stat Sarmaticis custodia ripis. Serpentes undique flammae non possunt comburere asbestino veluti linteo intextum Religionis splendorem. Fiunt autem haec lintea ex alumine Arabicé Jameno dicto, quod in tenuissimas bracteas fissile est & in telam contextum, igne, (ut ex lino facta, aqua lavantur,) ἃ sordibus purgatur: hujusque alumi-

nis copiam in Cypro nuper ad inventam, nobilis Italus*® refert, ex quo non modo gracilia ducantur fila, sed & oleum perpetud flammä coruscum exprimatur, At, egredior propositum. 53.

vid. de Varennes au Roy darmes f 171.

54.

Claud. in Pallad. & Seren. ep. 88.

55.

*H. Ruscelli delle imprese. f 58.

Crescet semen tuum in multitudinem exercitus Coeli!} Gen. 22:17, Vulg.: “bene-

dicam tibi et multiplicabo semen tuum sicut stellas caeli” [1 will bless you and will multiply your seed as the stars of the sky]. de Varennes au Roy d'armes] Emends “an Roy d'armes” Marc Gilbert de Varennes (1591-1660), French Jesuit. Gilbert (pt. 2, 171) comments: “Les Otto-

mans portent de sinople, au croissant d'argent, se disant descendus d’Abraham, à qui la promesse fut donnée de s‘accroistre & de multiplier sa posterité autant & plus que le sable de la mer” [Τῆς Ottomans bear arms of green with a silver crescent, claiming to be descended from Abraham, to whom the promise was given to increase and multiply his posterity as much as and more than the sands of the sea.]

SARMATICIS] In Claudian’s time, Sarmatia—from the Sarmatians [Lat., Sar-

matae|—occupied a district roughly between the Vistula River and the Caspian Sea and acted as a buffer against the Germanic invaders. in Pallad. & Seren. ep. 88.] Emends “in Pallad. & Seren. ep. 82.”

Videtur, DEUM Religionem Christianam . .. immanitatem propulsarunt] In

397

It pleased God to give the Christian religion into the protection of the Poles against the ferocious Oriental races, thus establishing them as a bulwark for public safety. Their invincible legions repelled the heinous actions of the barbarians and, to this day, stand as “a defense on the Sarmatian banks.” The engulfing serpentine flames cannot consume the splendor of our religion, for it is entirely woven, as it were, of asbestos linen. Moreover, these cloths are made in Arabic fashion from so-called Jamen alum, which is layered in very thin sheets and woven on a loom, then fire-purged of any impurities (as flaxen articles are washed with water). A noble Italian® has imported a quantity of alum, which he found recently in Cyprus. Not only can it be made into slender threads; a lustrous oil can also be extracted that produces an eternal flame. But I am getting beyond my topic. 53. 54.

Marc Gilbert de Varennes, Le Roy d'Armes, fol. 171. Claud. Pallad. 88.

55.

Girolamo Ruscelli, Le imprese illustri, fol. 58.

contemporary context, the thought was geopolitical in nature. Poland provided

a natural buffer zone to possible Ottoman expansion into western Europe and was compelled out of self-interest to try to pacify the Turks (Inalcik, chap. 4).

Contrary to the view stated in Per (358) that Poland had failed to halt Turkish

advances, Au/ more accurately credits Poland for its protection. Only recently

in fact—after lowed Turkish bility returned treaty Poland Turkey was to

a temporary break in the treaty between Poland and Turkey alforces to invade Moldavia and defeat Polish defenders—had stawith the signing of the Treaty of Busza (October 1621). By this was to restrain the Cossacks from raids into Turkish lands and restrain the Tartars from raids into Polish territories,

Serpentes undique flammae ... Arabicé Jameno dicto] Gellius, NA 15.1, relates an amusing incident in which the rhetorician Antonius Julianus, citing the Annals of Quintus Claudius, explains how alum proved to be a fire-preventative.

nobilis Italus] Girolamo Ruscelli (ca. 1504-66), cartographer, author of Le im-

prese illustri (1566).

328

Fallitur porrò Peristromatum Turcicorum Orator, quod Poloniae insig-

nia ostendit, quae Prussiae sunt,® © Aquila nimirum candida cum litera S.

insignita: haec enim Sigismundus 1. Poloniae Rex, cum Prussiae Ducatu, tanquam feudo suo, Alberto Marchioni Brandenburgico, «Ἐάτ, p. 47 > in perpetuam rei memoriam largitus est, Anno CHRISTI M.D.XXV. Habent verd Poloniae insignia Aquilam coronatam, quod Lechus pri-

mus gentis Dux & fundator, pacato imperio suo, deserta Poloniae peragrans,

sexto a Varta vel Warto flumine milliario, versus Septentrionem à nidificantium Aquilarum multitudine, urbem & Arcem Gneznam (vel Gnesnam, vel Gnesto) quod Slavis Aquilae nidum sonat, adificarit, indeque vexillorum schema elegerit.” Fimbriam denique Tapeti his verbis adorno. Superius addo: HOSTES PUNIRE SOLET.*®

intellige de FERDINANDO I. Polonorum virtute adjuto, & contra Turcos Classica 56. 57.

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EMBLEMATICA

Colombriere en sa Preface du Recueil d’ Arm. col. 6. Mar. Cromer. de gest. Pol. Î. 2. p. 25.

58. Claud. in Eutrop. 2.219. Fallitur porrò Peristromatum . .. Prussiae sunt, Ὁ] Per, 356 and 358. Citation

from Marc de Vulson de la Colombiére (d. 1658 or 1665), from Grenoble,

royal chamberlain, noted for his work on heraldry, Recueil de plusieurs pièces et figures dArmoiries (1639). The event alluded to is the Cracow peace treaty concluded on 8 April 1525, whereby Albrecht of Brandenburg received disputed East Prussia under fealty to the Polish crown and reciprocally recognized the sovereignty of the king of Poland. The agreement ended tensions between Poland and the Teutonic Order, which in the early 1520s, given the introduction of the Reformation into Teutonic lands, threatened to turn into a confessional war with Catholic Poland. Sigismundus I.) Sigismund I (Zygmunt), King of Poland (τ. 1506-48). Alberto Marchioni Brandenburgico] Albrecht of Brandenburg (1490-1568),

Margrave of Hohenzollern-Ansbach, elected in 1511 to Grand Master (Hoch-

meister) of the Teutonic Order; later Duke of Prussia.

Lechus primus gentis Dux & fundator] Lech, the legendary founder of Poland (“Lechia”).

329

The author of the Turkish Tapestries is, moreover, mistaken in attempting to identify as Polish what are in fact Prussian symbols.** & The white eagle is clearly marked with the letter 5: This signifies Sigismund I, the Polish king, who bestowed them, along with the dukedom of Prussia, which was

his property, upon Albrecht of Mark Brandenburg in perpetuity in the year of our Lord 1525. In truth, Poland’s insignia have a crowned eagle because of Lech, progenitor and leader of the race. After his empire had been pacified, he undertook to travel through the unsettled regions of Poland. At the sixth milestone from the river Varta, or Warto, north of a large population of nesting eagles, he built a city and citadel, a place called Gnez (or Gnes, or Gnest), which, in Slavic, means the nest of an eagle—thus his choice of symbols for the flags.” Finally, I adorn the border of the tapestry. At the top I put HE IS WONT TO PUNISH THE ENEMIES.*

I refer here, of course, to Ferdinand I, assisted by the valiant Poles. Against the Turks, the trumpets 56.

Mare de Vulson de la Colombière, Recueil de plusieurs pièces dArmoiries, pref., col. 6.

57.

Martin Cromer, Gest. Pol. 1.25.

58.

Ομ,

Eutr 2.219.

Mar. Cromer] Emends “Mar. Cramer.” Martin Cromer (1512-89), Polish his-

torian, Catholic theologian, and the bishop of Ermland, was a close collaborator of Cardinal Stanistaw Hosius in the later 1550s and special envoy of the king of Poland in Vienna on behalf of Polish counter-reformational interests. His Polonia is rich in examples illustrative of legal principles; Grotius makes references in Bel, to Cromer.

HOSTES PUNIRE SOLET] Claud., Eutr. 2.219, “hostes punire solent.” FERDINANDO I. Polonorum virtute adjuto] Ref. to events while Ferdinand was king of Hungary (after 1527) but before becoming emperor (in 1558).

There were protracted conflicts in Hungary during the 1530s tween Süleyman and the Habsburgs. The Polish-Habsburg claimed here (referring probably to the agreements of the early exaggerated, if not entirely fictitious. The Poles and Ottomans

and 1540s bealliance that is 1550s) is much managed quite

330

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EMBLEMATICA

ACCOMPANY THE EAGLES AS THEY GO FORTH.”

AQUILAS COMITANTUR EUNTE eu

Machines of war will lead the way, sending

Praesto erunt tormenta bellica, & inde

A RAIN OF FIRE UPON THE ENEMY.”

FLAMMEUS IMBER IN HOSTES;®

The very weapons themselves seem to exclaim,

Quin & ipsa arma exclamare videntur: HAUD FURIIS (Ottomannicis)

WE REFUSE TO YIELD THE WORLD

CONCEDIMUS ORBEM."

TO (Ottoman) FURIES.*!

«Ἐάν: Auleum VI>

59.

id. de VI. Cons. Hon, 321.

60.

Idem ibid. 342.

61.

id. 2. in Eutrop. 39.

on their own to avoid serious war, despite Habsburg attempts to fan anti-Turk-

ish feeling in Poland.

AQUILAS

COMITANTUR

EUNTES]

Claud.,

VI Cons. 320-22,

“fu-

gam... tetendit /... horrens aquilas; comitatur euntem / Pallor....”

FLAMMEUS IMBER IN HOSTES] Claud., VI Cons. 322, “... hostem.”

HAUD FURIIS (Ottomannicis) CONCEDIMUS ORBEM) Adapts Claud., Eutr. 2.39, “unam pro mundo Furiis concedimus urbem.”

59.

Claud. VT Cons. 321.

60.

Claud. VJ Cons. 342.

61.

Claud. Eur: 2.39.

331

332

EMBLEMATICA

Max Reinhart

333

AULAEUM VI. RELIQUA EUROPAE REGNA ET. RESPUBLICAE LIBERTATIS.

COr hominis formam habet trianguli, allegorico sensu notans, Mundum, Coelum, Elementa & rotundae sive sphaericae figurae alia quaeque non posse explere animum humanum. Inversam etiam Pyramidem refert; (ignis quippe in verticem surgit, sicut aqua natura defertur,) quia corda nos-

tra ad DEUM, in luce inaccessibili habitantem, assurgere deberent, inverso & perverso modo ad terram & terrena reflectuntur. Hinc forté consueta in Ecclesiis formula obtinuit: Sursum corda! cum Responsorio: habemus ad DoMINUM! Caeterim accensam qui propius contemplatur candelam, observabit lucis radios in triangulum scintillare; qui remotius intuetur, in sex angulos & duplicatum trigonum circumfusam notabit lucem: TAPESTRY VI. The Remaining Kingdoms of Europe and the Free Republics.

The heart of a man has the shape of a triangle, signifying that, in an allegorical sense, the world, the sky, the elements, and other round or spherical shapes offer inadequate expressions of the human soul. For the heart has the form ofan upside-down pyramid (fire of course surges upward into a point, just as water falls naturally in the same shape), because our hearts ought to struggle upward toward God, who lives in inaccessible light, and because when inverted they become perverted back to the earth and earthly concerns. Perhaps that explains the liturgical formula: “Lift up your hearts!” and the response: “We have lifted them up to the Lord!” Now, if one contemplates a lighted candle at close range, one will observe that the rays of light flicker upward into a triangle; if one looks at it from farther away, one Fig. 7. Aulaea Romana, Contra Peristromata Turcica Expansa: Sive Dissertatio Emblematica,

Concordiae Christianae Omen Repraesentans (Nuremberg, 1642). Aulaeum VI, “Cum bella fremunt.” (Courtesy of Herzog August Bibliothek, Wolfenbiictel.)

AULAEUM VI

sex angulos & duplicatum trigonum] The argument rests on the divine, or magical, properties of the number 6. In Christian numerology the hexad is considered perfect (i.e., equal to the sum of all of its divisors, including unity: 3+2+1), given that God pronounced all of Creation “valde bona” on the sixth day (Gen. 1:31), and is the chief numerical sign in salvation history (the sexta aetas of the world begins with Christ’s incarnation).

è longinquo verò qui respiciet, flammam circuli affectare orbitam comperiet, prout omne corpus suo modo sphaericam aemulatur perfectionem. Recta haec circuli est proportio, quae ad trigonum integro, ad hexadem mediato Diametro pertenditur. Enimvero DEUS distinxit radij totum qui legibus orbem, dierum senario mundum creavit, & praeceptum ab eo est, ut operi sex modo dies destinarentur, Ebraei sex annis seminarent, & omnino numerum hunc operis, septimum quietis agnoscerent. Sex hominum paria ad messem

Evangelij Christus destinavit, qui de LXXII. discipulis XII. quos binos mit-

teret, elegit; & de horum numero cum unus praevaricasset, quasi ex necessario alius est suffectus, & VI signa, quae in XII horis diei sunt, operi ab eodem

destinata declarantur: adeoque in numero LXXII. servata senarij virtus &

duodenarij numerus enim ille in expansione duodenarij, & radice senarij consistit: XII. enim VI. sunt LXXII. qui numerus contractus est in XII. & hic in VI. mittendo binos Apostolos. At quorsum haec? Hoc numero fretus complectar, (Adversarij exemplo) Tria Septentrionis Regna, & tres Respubl. Libertatis hac picturà Emblematica.

Esto candela ardens, 4 manu ex nube porrecta, cujus lumen duobus alijs itidem candelis admotis auctum spectetur: Inferius candelabrum, tripode nixum, & tripartito erectum tubo, addita epigraphe: 62.

J.C. Scal. exerc. 30.

prout omne corpus suo modo sphaericam aemulatur perfectionem] Discussed in J.C. Scaliger, Exerc., chap. 30, “Quaere aer efflatus conglobatur.” distinxit radij totum qui legibus orbem] A geometrical concept of creation; cf. Pythagorean theory. It seems plausible that Milag is quoting Giordano Bruno, who uses nearly identical wording both in his Praelectiones geometricae and elsewhere

33

nN"

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EMBLEMATICA

334

will notice that the light shapes itself into hexagonal figures and a doubletriangle; and if one views it from a great distance, one will discover that the flame forms a circle, since each body emulates, after its own fashion, spherical perfection. The correct proportion for the circle is that which encompasses the triangular shape in its totality, and the hexagonal shape in diameter-halves. For truly, God, who ordered the whole world according to the laws of the radius, created the world in six days, whence the ordinance that only six days be devoted to work; so that the Jews should sow for six years, and devote just this number to work and the seventh to rest. Christ designated six pairs of men for the harvest of the gospel. That is, of 72 disciples he chose twelve to be sent out in twos, and when one of that number sinned, another was to be put in his place. The six signs in the twelve hours of the day are also determined by that same process: likewise, in the number 72 the six-base and the twelve-base are preserved, in that the number consists in the expansion of the twelve by the six-root: twelve times six is seventy-two, reducible to twelve, and then to six, the number of pairs of apostles to be sent out. But what is my point? Using this number I am able to include (as did my adversary) the three northern kingdoms and the three free republics in this emblematic picture. Let there be a burning candle extended by a hand from a cloud. Its light is visibly increased by two more candles. Below, a candelabrum rests on a

62.

J. C. Scaliger, Exerc. 30.

word “duo” after the indication of 70. The choice of70 is supported by several

motifs, such as the 70 tribes of Israel (Metzger). In the Renaissance (as reflected

in his works, as Giovanni Aquilecchia has noted (Bruno, 59).

here), the number 72 was highly valued, particularly following Giovanni Pico

praeceptum ... ut operi sex modo dies destinarentur] Exod. 20:9.

conclusion 56) because the mystical Name of God was said to be constituted of

della Mirandola’s 72 Cabalist Conclusiones; he chose the number (implied in

Ebraei sex annis seminarent ... septimum quietis agnoscerent] Exod. 23:10-11.

the names of 72 angels (Reuchlin in 1517 developed Pico’s thesis).

Sex hominum paria ad messem Evangelij Christus destinavit| The twelve disciples of Christ’s inner circle.

24 hours, each of the twelve signs of the zodiac is allocated two hours, making

LXXII. discipulis] The canonical number of disciples is 70 (Luke 10:1); wheth-

er there were 70 or 72 disciples is rooted in a textual variant problem. Some early manuscripts, e.g., Papyrus frag. P75 and the Codex Vaticanus (B), added the

VI signa, quae in XII horis diei sunt] Because the earth rotates on its axis once in

a total of six in twelve hours.

(Adversarij exemplo)] Per (Tapestry VI), though without the implied numero-

logical argument.

336

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Max Reinhart

tripod, which itself is situated upon a tripartite tubular stand. The epigraph

CUM BELLA FREMUNT:®

Coibunt videlicet Regnorum & Rerumpubl. per orbem Christianum

is affixed:

concordes vires, quoties contra illos arma moverit Turcus. In commune ut

WHEN

consulant, communis aerumna suadebit, ne dum singuli pugnent, omnes

vincantur.

Addo autem, ut fimbriam exolvam & absolvam, Claudiano lemmata: Superius ad FERDINANDI.

Symbolicum;

ultima haec ex Pacifici schema

LUX REDDITUR ΟΚΒΙ

Reddita videlicet pace. Classica

WARS

GROWL.

The allied powers of the kingdoms and republics will assemble through-

out Christendom whenever the Turks move their forces against them. Their shared lot will convince them of the wisdom of mutual effort, lest, fighting individually, all be defeated. In order to complete the border, I now add these final mottoes from

Claudian. At the top, over the symbol of the peace-loving Ferdinand: LIGHT IS RESTORED TO THE WORLD.“

ORNAMENTA DABUNT.S

Bellicis Tormentis VINDICTAM MONSTRASSE SATIS: Et ingruente necessitate, suspensa sed conjuncta arma PACEM PRO

337

MUNERE DABUNT:”

Hoc si nobis repraesentabis Omen Augustissime Caesar, TE cuncta loquetur Tellus, TE varijs scribent in floribus horae. Longaque perpetui ducent in saecula fasti!®

Surely, peace is restored. The trumpets WILL RING OUT THE HONORS.®

By his machines of war HE HAS COMMANDED ENOUGH REVENGE.“

And under the press of necessity, armed forces, suspended but still allied, WILL BESTOW PEACE AS A GIFT.”

Most Glorious Emperor, if you will grant us this omen, You the whole world will proclaim. You the hours will inscribe in myriad flowers, And ageless annals will lead you through the long centurie

63.

Claud. de laud. Stil. 2.149.

64.

Claud. de rapt. Pros. 3.243.

63. 64.

Claud., Stil, 2.149. Claud., Rapt. 3.243.

65.

id. Chlam. 6.

65.

Claud., Chlam. 6.

66.

id. de Bel. Gild. 384.

67. 68.

id. de IV. Cons, Hon. 454. id. de Cons. Prob. & Olyb. vers. ult.

66. 67.

Claud., Gild. 384. Claud. IV Cons. 454 (trans. Platnauer).

68.

Claud. Prob. 277-79.

Coibunt videlicet Regnorum e& Rerumpubl. per orbem Christianum concordes

vires| Per (362) is of the opposite opinion. Chlam. 6.1 Emends “de mun. Hon. 67

de Bel. Gild. 384.) Emends “de Bel. Gild. 389”

IV Cons. Hon. 454.] Emends “IV. Cons. Hon. 459.”

Cons. Prob. & Olyb. vers. ult.) Precisely: ll. 277-79.

5 168

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338

Conclusion.

Exodium.

AD hoc studium mihi Principum Doctissimus Autor & hortator extitit, forte etiam laudator futurus. Quanquam enim per imbecillitatis meae conscientiam, superbam inde expectationem effingere haud possim, & rerum mearum obtrectator, quam ostentator, audire malim: ita tamen comitatem & luben, tiam (suave Virtutum philtrum,) Musarum ille Patronus omnibus propinat

ut vel obsequij promptitudo, vel argumenti opportunitas, vel erectus negotij magnitudine animus, vel ipsa, licet parum ingeniosa industria commendationi esse poterit. Enimverd Christiani sanguinis parsimonia cordi esse deberet Imperantibus,

licet Turcicum

bellum,

cujus nebulas

Peristromatum

Autor memorat, inter ψευδόπυρα reputandum sit.” Spondet ultro Pacem Ottomannicus Legatus, excusat latrocinantium per Hungariam & Moraviam

excursiones, & fidem dat, aliorsum spectare ingentem belli ap-

paratum. Haec cum ita sint, Christianis Pacem auguror e& Concordiam; Nil 69.

339

Eras. Adag. 3.4.38.

Exodium

Exodium| Gk. εξόδιον, finale of a tragedy. In Rome it was the burlesque per-

formed after a play. It came to be used occasionally in the sense of a conclusion to a writing, as here.

comitatem & lubentiam (suave Virtutum philtrum, )) Ovid's “pallentia philtra”

(Ars 2.105) adapted here as the vessel of good manners.

ψευδόπυρα] Erasmus (Adag. 3.4.38) explains that ψευδόπυρα is the name given to the strategic lighting of fires by which a small group of soldiers approaching

the enemy camp by night can give the impression of being much larger and more dangerous than it is in fact (“cum re nullum sit periculum” [when there is no danger]). Ottomannicus Legatus) Rouillard (156-57) records the arrival of an Ottoman

envoy in Paris in 1640, noting that he has found no evidence of any other such

visits between 1618 and 1669. The spirit of the occasion in 1640 supports the

assertion here that the Turks sought peaceful relations. The passages from the Gazette cited by Rouillard would further suggest that the official, Richelieuean,

policy was to facilitate a useful alliance with the Turks. It is tempting to imagine that the Turkish peristromata were presented on this visit.

latrocinantium] “brigandage” or “banditry.” The term invokes the end of Eras.,

The most learned of princes, as author and patron, has supported me in my endeavor, and perhaps he will praise me for it. Awareness of my own ignorance does not allow me to entertain high expectations, but I should prefer to hear praise from a critic rather than a promotor of my work. Nevertheless, this patron of the Muses grants courtesy and pleasure (the sweet potion of the virtues) to all. Anyone with a ready willingness, a fitting topic, a mind stirred to great action, or even an eager talent, however small, may be commended to him. Our rulers should rather be deeply concerned with how to spare Christian blood; and a war by the Turks, the uncertainties of which are rehearsed by the author of the Tapestries, should be regarded as a “false fire.” The Ottoman ambassador, in fact, quite on his own, promises peace, repents of the brigandage in Hungary and the invasion of Moravia, and gives his word that the colossal war machine will be withdrawn. Thus I foresee peace and concord for Christians. As Prudentius says, without peace nothing is pleasing to God. As for the Turks, the fate of the poet Aeschylus awaits them. That famous tragedian was bombastic 69.

Eras., Adag. 3.4.38.

Turc., which, as Michael J. Heath has shown, substantially borrows Giambattista Egnazio’s account in De Caesaribus (1516) of the rise of the Ottomans. To Egnazio’s characterization of Osman as a man of humble peasant stock, Erasmus added “ad latrocinia factus” [well adapted to brigandage].

Nil placitum sine pace DEO, inquit Prudentius.| Source not provided in text,

but it comes from near the end of the Psychomachia ( The Fightfor Mansoul) of Prudentius (348—after 405), greatest of the Latin church poets: pax plenum Virtutis opus, pax summa laborum,

pax belli exacti pretium est pretiumque pericli. sidera pace vigent, consistunt terrea pace.

nil placitum sine pace deo... . (Il. 769-72)

[Peace is the fulfillment of a Virtue’s work, peace the sum and sub-

stance of her toils, peace the reward for war now ended and for peril faced. It is by peace that the stars live and move, by peace that earthly things stand firm. Without peace, nothing is pleasing to God; trans. Thomson; emphasis added].

340

placitum sine pace DEO, inquit Prudentius. Turcis verò AEschyli Poétae fatum. Fuit ille Tragicus ad vitium usque grandiloquus, & oraculo monitus, ut ex ictu superne proveniente caveret, dictoque audiens, sub dio agere suevit, usque

semel in aprico loco, aperto capite sedens, Aquila calvitie hominis illusa, testudinem quam ferebat, ei perinde ac lapidi illisit; quo ictu AEschylus extinctus perijt. Turcorum Monarcha Tragicus fabulator, superbus & elatus, fati necessitatem intervertere haud poterit, licet impunitatem speret ex poenae comper-

endinatione. Testudo AEschyli calvitiem contudit; animalis tarditas, testaeque durities, judicij divini conditiones apposite designat: Tandem & tandem rasus ille vertex Turcorum comminuendus instar vasis figlini, & tarditas poenae,

gravitate pensabitur. In fidem hujus sententiae non adducam verticale Tureis ann (charab) quod ex stellatis literis Gaffrel speculatur,*” neque recen- sebo rectissimas conjecturas pientissimi Theologi* de fatali Ottomannico 70.

Max Reinhart

EMBLEMATICA

* aux curiosites in oityez chat. 13.

Turcis verò AEschyli Poétae fatum] The legend that the tragedian Aeschylus

341

in his speech to a fault; warned by an oracle about a blow from above, he took the advice to heart and accustomed himselfto remaining out of doors. One day, as he was sitting in a sunny spot with his head uncovered, an eagle, fooled by his baldness, dropped a tortoise on him as if on a stone, by which blow Aeschylus died. The monarch of the Turks is also a tragic yarnspinner, haughty and overweening, and will be unable to avert the hand of fate, hope though he may for postponement of the sentence. Aeschyluss bald head was smashed by a turtle. The turtle’s slowness and the hardness of its shell fittingly represent divine justice: in the end the shaven head of the Turks will be shattered like a China vase, and the belatedness of the penalty will be compensated by its severity. As proof, I shall not mention the vertical Tureis 210 (charab), which Gaffarel conjectures from letters found in the stars;”" neither shall I repeat the speculations of that pious theologian con70.

Jacques Gaffarel, Curiositez inouyes, chap. 13.

of the Hebrew alphabet and could be read and interpreted accordingly. The al-

(ca. 525-ca. 456 B.C.E.) was mortally wounded when struck on the head by a tortoise dropped from the talons of a high-flying eagle rests on an old story

lusion here is to the astrological phenomenon of the Medusa’s Head becoming vertical to Greece, thereby foreshadowing, in Gaffarel’s interpretation, a calam-

lus but simply to someone with a bald head, told a similar story to illustrate the function of accident within a designed universe. The legend came to fasten on Aeschylus and remained in currency as late as the seventeenth century, as documented here (Browne, citing as his source Claudian Aelianus, comments

6.14, comments on this section from the Chilmead translation, 415-18).

from the fifth century B.C.E. Democritus, not necessarily referring to Aeschy-

briefly on Aeschylus’s untimely death bya falling tortoise; Pseudodoxia, 7.18.6).

Fuit ille Tragicus ad vitium usque grandiloquus) Aeschylus was noted for his

lofty speech (e.g., Hor., Ars 279-80). Turcorum Monarcha Tragicus fabulator| The Turkish emperor, presumably Sultan Ibrahim, is accused of being a “Tragicus fabulator” which is to say, he uses

over-elevated and threatening language without justification. He is, in other

words, an example of the Erasmian “false fire.” Testudo AEschyli calvitiem contudit] Lipsius (Pol., 4.9) adduces Livy's account

(34.39) of the Roman use of the testudo strategy against the Lacedomonians in

remarking on the wisdom of a prince being content with what he has, i.e., keeping his head within his own shell. verticale Tureis 227 (charab) quod ex stellatis literis Gaffrel speculatur| Gaffarel (see following note) was noted for his theory of “celestial writing,” by which the constellations were said to shape themselves into forms resembling the letters

ity—charab, or Tureis—namely, “Mahomettan” tyranny over Greece (Browne,

Gaffrel] Despite being ridiculed by other scholars at the Sorbonne for his cutious astrological and mythical theories, Jacques Gaffarel (1601-81) was appointed librarian by Richelieu, who dispatched him to Italy and elsewhere to collect valuable manuscripts and other curiosities. His most notable book was Cuthe Curiositez inouyes (1629; Eng. trans. Edmund Chilmead as Unheard-of riosities, 1650), which Harsdôrffer also cites in FzG 2 (476). rectissimas conjecturas pientissimi Theologi *] Lutheran theologian Philipp Nicolai (1556-1608); his Historia des Reichs Christi, composed in Latin in 1599, appeared in Hamburg in German translation (referenced here) by Gothard

Arthus in 1626. While Nicolai is known foremost as a writer of enduring Lutheran hymns, he took a decidely millenarist, or apocalyptic, turn in the late 1580s when he became court preacher to Count Wilhelm Ernst.

de fatali Ottomannico Imperio* anno M.DC.LXIII] Nicolai, bk. 2, chap. 9, of-

fers a chronology according to Christian and pagan calendars leading to the end of time; the year 1670 is reckoned by Nicolai as the final year, with 1663 projected as the fatal year for “Muhammadans” and assorted other heretics, including Calvinists and Anabaptists (see also chap. 10).

342

EMBLEMATICA

Max Reinhart

Imperio™' anno M.DC.LXIII neque celebratum ipsis Turcis de Christianorum gladio vaticinium, quod refert P Gorgovviez:*™ sed opinionis meae veritatem ex claris S. Scripturae locis adstruam: Ascendet indignatio, inquit Propheta, super Gog in furore ZEBAOTH, & in Zelo suo, & in igne irae suae loquetur ei. Descendet ignis à DEO de coelo & devorabit populos, quos Gog & Magog congregabit in praelium.”

cerning the fatal year of the Ottoman Empire, 1663;”! nor shall I consider the Turks’ own prophecy concerning the sword of the Christians, about which B. Gorgowiez speaks.” Rather, I shall add the truth of my opinion supported by clear passages from Holy Scripture. The prophet says, “Wrath will arise against Gog in the fury of the Lord God, and in his zeal and in the fire of his wrath he will speak to him. Fire of God will descend from heaven and devour the people whom Gog and Magog will gather in battle” Moreover, the writer of the Tapestries justifies as political expediency the negotiations of the French with the Turks # (perhaps based upon the epistle of Cardinal Ossat”). The argument is feeble, however, as is typical of every less than just cause. Abraham, David, Solomon, Judas Maccabeus, and others made treaties with infidels, but only against other infidels in the interest of self-defense. But if, in order to take revenge, we ally ourselves in arms and policy against Christians with the enemies of Christianity, we should recall God’s injunction: “Take heed that you not befriend the inhabitants of this land." “Do not make a covenant with them.’ And elsewhere: “Because if you wish to go along with the errors of the gentiles and join in friendships with them, they will be a pitfall and a trap for you.”” Thus in dying, Francis I,

Denique excusat Peristromatum Scriptor % Gallorum cum Turcis necessitudinem Politicam, (forte ex Cardinal. Ossati epist.) sed languide, ut solitum

in causa sequiori.* Abraham, David, Salomon, Judas Maccabaeus, &c. foedera habuére cum infidelibus, sed contra alios infideles, in causa defensionis. At si ultionis causa, cum Christiani nominis hostibus, contra Christianos

arma & consilia junguntur, locum obtinet vox praecipientis Dei: Cave, ne unquam cum habitatoribus terrae istius jungas amicitias.”* Non inibis cum eis foedus.”* Er alibi: Quod si volueritis Gentium adhaerere erroribus, & cum eis copulare amicitias, erunt vobis in foveam, & laqueum.” Hinc Franciscus L Galliarum Rex, haec verba moriturus ingeminasse 71.

* Philippi Nicolai historia deR Reichs Christi / 1 2. cap. 9. & 10.

72.

* de morib. Turc. fol.

73.

Ezech. 38. v. 19. & 39. v. 1. Apoc. 20. v. 7. & 9.

74.

109. & 110.

Epist. 38.

75.

Exod. 34. v. 12.

76.

Deut. 7.2.

77:

....:23.:12.Ὁ13

Philippi Nicolai historia def Reichs Christi / L 2. cap. 9. & 10.] Emends “.. . 1. 2. num. 15.f 392.”

P. Gorgovviez] Bartholomej Gorgevié (also: Georgijevié) (ca. 1510-ca. 1566), Hungarian traveler, spent thirteen years as a slave in Turkey, a fate that he exploited to become one of the best-informed, most widely read European pamphleteers on Turkish culture. de morib. Turc. fol. 109. & 110.] Emends “de morib. Turc. fol. 109.”

71.

* Philipp Nicolai, Historia des Reichs Christi, bk. 2, chaps. 9-10.

72. 73.

Bartholomej Gorgevié, De morib. Turc., pp. 109-10. Ezek. 38:19 and 39:1, and Rev. 20:7-9.

74.

Arnauld d’Ossat, Epis. 38.

75.

Exod. 34:12.

76.

Deut. 7:2.

77.

Josh. 23:12-13.

343

(forte ex Cardinal. Ossati epist.)] Arnauld Cardinal d’Ossat (1536-1604), one

of the most highly regarded statesmen of his time, said to have been personally

responsible for facilitating the conversion of Henri IV to Catholicism and for

controlling its political consequences.

Quod si volueritis ... erunt vobis in foveam, & laqueum.] Adapts Josh. 23:12-13.

Ascendet indignatio . . Descendet ignis ἃ DEO . .. congregabit in praelium) These two sentences conflate and adapt the three scripture references: Ezek.

Jos. 23. 12. & 13.] Emends “Jos. 23.2.”

Apoc. 20. v. 7. & 9.] Emends “Apoc. 20. v. 7” Apoc. = Rev.

allied in 1542 with Süyeyman I and launched an offensive against Charles V.

38:19, 39:1, and Rev. 20:7, 9.

Franciscus I. Galliarum Rex] Francis 1, King of France (τ. 1515-47), became

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EMBLEMATICA

344

fertur: Perij, eheu! perij, quia volui foederatus esse ei, qui hostis est Christiani

nominis. Quare etiam, Anno M.D.XLIV in comitijs Spirensibus, aeque ac

Turcorum tunc Imperator Solimannus pro Christianorum hoste declaratus legitur.”* Denique hoc voveo, ut, quemadmodum obaerata illa vidua, cujus filij etiam à creditoribus in miserae servitutis nexum deposcebantur, jubente Elisaco, miraculosd olei ubertate, nomina eluit, & chara familiae pignora, in praesentissima calamitate est tutata:” Sic viduata & desolata Germania dulcissima omnia nostrorum pignora, imperio Viti DEI (tales enim sunt, quos divina

providentia rebus humanis sustentandis substituere dignatur) multiplicato

oleo Pacis, exsolvat, & filios ab armorum perpetua servitute laeta redimat.

Pax erit in terris, regnumque redibit amoris. Has mihi spes FERNANDE facis, DEUS omina firmet! Haec sunt Amicorum intime, quae contra Peristromata Turcica moliri

volui, & jussus debui. Pronum quidem fuisset, prolixius singula exequi, &

subtilia de igne, ex Philosophorum scholis, admiscere problemata; sed aemulari Adversarij brevitatem intempestivamque eruditionem omittere ratum

habui. Te itaque per jura necessitudinis nostrae obtestor, ut tuum in his ju-

dicium, quod semper maximum est, rescribere non dedigneris. Esset profecto,

cur ad humanae imbecillitatis debile & flebile recurrerem privilegium; licere quandoque peccare; sed nihil excusabo, nihil ignoscas velim; Crudelem Te 78.

Dom. Arum. ad Aur. Bull. 6.15.7.

79.

4. Reg 4.

Perij, cheu! perij, quia volui foederatus esse ei, qui hostis est Cristiani nominis.) Ref. τὸ the Franco-Ottoman alliance of 1536, by which Francis I sought leverage against the House of Habsburg. For this unprecedented action, Francis was widely denounced in Europe (as in the present text more than 100 years later). The relationship thus established endured for two and a half centuries, and with its initiation, the Ottomans effectively “became part of the game of European power politics” (Kann, 62),

in comitijs Spirensibus| Diet of Speyer (January-April 1544), at which Charles V, in return for conceding to a provisional religious peace in Germany, received broad support from Catholics and Protestants alike for undertaking war against France. Dom. Arum.| Dominicus Arumaeus

(von Arum,

1579-1637), of Friesian

345

King of the French, is said to have moaned the words: “I die, alas! I die, for I wished to join him who is the enemy of the Christian name.” Wherefore we read that Francis, at the Diet of Speyer in 1544, together with Süleyman, then ruler of the Turks, was declared an enemy of Christians.” Finally, like the poor widow whose sons were forced by creditors into the miserable bond of servitude, but whose debts were expunged at Elisha’s bidding by a miraculous abundance of oil, and her family’s precious children redeemed from the teeth of calamity:” I pray that widowed and desolate Germany free all of the sweetest pledges of our people by the order of the man of God (for there are such men whom divine Providence sees fit to give us in order to sustain the human race) with an abundance of the oil of peace and joyfully redeem her sons from the perpetual servitude of war. Peace will come on earth and the kingdom of love return. These hopes you give me, Ferdinand. May God strengthen the omens! These, then, are the arguments against the Turkish Tapestries, Dearest Friend, that I wished and felt obligated to make. I easily could have treated each point at greater length, adding subtle conjectures about fire from the philosophical schools. But I thought it advisable to emulate my adversary's brevity and omit inappropriate learned discussion. I now call upon you to swear, on the grounds of our friendship, that you will not refuse to write back with your excellent judgment on these things. I could, of course, appeal to that feeble and pitiful excuse, human weakness, i.e., that we are permitted to err. But I shall excuse nothing, and I would have you forgive nothing. Let 78.

See Dominicus Arumaeus on the Golden Bull, in his Discursus Academici 6.15.7.

79.

2 Kings 4.

nobility, professor of law at Jena and a pioneer in the implementation of public

law as an independent academic discipline.

oleo Pacis| The signification of peace and gladness is one of the many symbolic uses of oil and other ointments in the Bible (e.g., Ps. 23:5, 104:15).

Pax erit in terris] Luke 2:14.

Te itaque per jura . .. rescribere non dedigneris.] Milag here mixes the language of law and friendship to compel Harsdérffer’s frank criticism. That an honest if harsh critic is a better friend than one who only praises is found as early as Hor., Ars 438-52.

346

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EMBLEMATICA

Medicum intemperies festinantis calami experiatur. Ure, seca, omnia tuo ar-

bitrio permitto: agnoscam (ita spondeo) quaecunque emendaveris, ostensurus etiam pro candore tuo gratiam quoties locus, aut usus fuerit. Vale Vir amicissime & me ama, &c. TN.NE.

the distemper of my hurrying pen find in you a cruel physician. Burn! Cut! I leave everything to your judgment. I promise to accept your corrections and to show my gratitude for your candor as the opportunity arises. Farewell, Dearest Friend. Think well of me, etc. My name is known to you. On the Insignia of Ferdinand III,

Roman Emperor.

Ad insignia FERDINANDI III.

No one challenges the Austrian Eagles unharmed. Note well, that is what the lightning bolt in his claw is for.

Rom. Imp.

AUSTRIACAS AQUILAS nemo sine clade lacessit, Si nescis, isto fulmen ab ungue venit.

Postscript,

Mantissa, Sive Responsio ad praemissam Dissertationem Emblematicam. AUlaea Romana, quae nuper obtulisti, multa cum lubentiä inspexi: gratias

etiam habeo ingentes, quas ex occasione volens repraesentabo. Liberé loquor: si

penicillus, vel acus, calamo tuo, & ingenij acumini responderit,

or Response to the Foregoing Emblematic Treatise.

I took great pleasure in examining the Roman tapestries that you recently submitted and am happy for this opportunity to express my immense gratitude. Quite honestly, if my own brush, or needle, could respond to the brilliance of your pen, it would say, never did art provide a Happier outcome; nor threads so harmonious Ever draw their figure with such truth.*

nunquam felicior arti

Contigit eventus: nulli sic consona telae Fila, & in tantum veri ductura figuram.*°

Ut Phidiam ferunt omnem artis suae gloriam, in Minervae simulachrum, ejusque clypeum contulisse; sic splendentior igni aureus (quisque) ardescit clypeus,*! 80.

81.

347

Claud. de rapt. Pros. 2.41.-43.

id Gigant. 77 & 78.

T.N.N.E.| Unresolved, but plausibly “Tibi nomen notum est” [Name known to you]. I owe this conjecture to Valérie Hayaert. Mantissa

Mantissa\ Postscript. On mantissa as genre see Per (372).

nunquam felicior arti... veri ductura figuram]) Claud., Rapt. 2.41-43, “pectinis ingenio numquam felicior artis / contigit eventus; nulli sic consona telae / fila nec in tantum veri duxere figuras” [Never did art give happier issue to the

They say that Phidias combined all the glory of his art in the statue of Minerva and her shield; so also, brighter than flame

shines (each) golden shield.*’ 80.

Claud, Rapt. 2.41-43.

81.

Claud, Gigant. 77-78.

shuttle’s skill; never was cloth so beautifully made nor embroidery so life-like; trans. Platnauer].

de rapt. Pros. 2.41-43.| Emends “de rapt. Pros. 2.41.” Ut Phidiam ferunt] Phidias (b. ca. 490 B.C.E.), Athenian sculptor, erected the colossal Minerva (Athena) for the Parthenon in 438.

Gigant. 77. & 78.] Emends “Gigant. 76.”

aureus (quisque) ardescit clypeus| Milag has added “(quisque)” to Claudian's verse.

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348

The glorious woof breathes Minerva’s skill.**

insigne Minervae

spirat opus.

Argumentum hoc inusitata solertià & con- cinna industria extollis: venustus passim eminet vigor, jucunda & foecunda rerum alacritas efflorescit. Adversarium erudite vellicas, modesté arguis, & macu-

las Peristromatum, (quae me & alios forte latuére) igneis ingenij tui radiis

placide ποίας. Selegisti porrò Mystam tibi, & interpretem Illustrem Poétam, & ut Criticus* fidem facit, Christianum.® Felix in illo calor, (tua ex Scaligero verba sunt) verus in tuis color, rerum & verborum splendidus nexus & argutus, imo

singularis, ut nesciam an tu cum illo, an tecum ille loquatur. Sensus quidem in nonnullis fasciae adscriptionibus vacillat, sed verbum illud reticentiae, ut vocant Emblematum artifices, ex complexu instituti facile erit obvium, quin & pulchrius elucescunt, quae ex obscuro scintillant. Veluti Scythae & Parthi hostes; ita Emblemata Apodosim, vel in ipsa fuga ingeniosé insinuant, & spicula quasi retrospiciendo vibrare debent. 82.

id. de laud. Stil. 2. 340. & 341.

83.

* G, Barth. advers. 1. 7. f 13.

insigne Minervae spirat opus] Claud., Stil. 2.340, “insigne Minervam / spirat opus.”

de laud. Stil. 2.340.

& 341.] Emends “de laud. Stil. 2.335.”

maculas Peristromatum, (quae me & alios forte latuére)| An ostensible mea culpa; but see my introduction to Per (296-99).

Mystam| Mysta, “a priest of the secret rites of divine worship” (Lewis and

Short); cf. Ov. F. 4.536. As Harsdòrffer is referring to Caspar von Barth (see

following note), the related function of mystagogus, “one who conducts a person through secret and sacred places as a guide” (Lewis and Short), may be more apt in this context. Selegisti porrò Mystam tibi, & interpretem Illustrem Poëtam, & ut Criticus” fi-

dem facit, Christianum.] Caspar von Barth (1587-1658), friend of Opitz in

Heidelberg, and Claudian’s chief editor prior to Nicolas Heinsius, produced

two massive editions: Hannover, 1612 (492 pages of commentary), and Frank-

furt a.M., 1650 (more than 1,000 pages of commentary). Harsdérffer’s regard for Barth as a writer may be gathered from the fact that he included him in his canon of German authors, Specimen Philologiae Germanicae (1646; cf. Per,

349

You ennoble your argument with extraordinary skill and with an elegant industriousness; its loveliness and vigor are apparent throughout your work; its joyful, fruitful vitality bursts into flower, as it were. You challenge your adversary with knowledge; you debate with civility; with fiery rays of intelligence you reveal, serenely, the faults of the Tapestries, which had perchance escaped me and others as well. Moreover, you selected as priest of mysteries and interpreter a poet both renowned and, as the critic* assures us, a Christian.** There is “auspicious warmth” in his words (thus Scaliger, as you noted) and genuine color in your own. Together they create such a splendid and lively, indeed unique connection between things and words, that I hardly know whether you are speaking with Claudian or Claudian with you. The sense of some of the banner-mottoes is uncertain, to be sure, but the meaning of that “silent word,” as artists call the emblem, is obvious from the intention of the whole; in fact, the things that gleam out of darkness shine the more beautifully. Emblems should thus be like Scythian and Parthian troops, ingeniously imparting their message while turned in flight, and brandishing their spears in backward glances. 82.

Claud, Stil, 2.340-1.

83.

ΤΟ von Barth, Adversaria bk. 1, chap. 7, p. 13.

284). Regarding the question of Claudian’s religion, which had concerned

Christian thinkers since Augustine (Civ. Dei 5.26), the reigning opinion at the

turn of the seventeenth century, represented by the Jesuit Caesar Baronius, was that Claudian was pagan. This was refuted by Barth in 1624 in his Adversariarum Commentariorum Libri LX (1.7.13-14), where he quoted extensively from Claudian’s works, especially his poems, to argue that the poet had surely become a Christian. How else, he reasoned, could Claudian have achieved such “acumen, sublimitatem, facilitatem, & perpetuam aequalitatem” [sharpness of

intellect, loftiness, ease, and uninterrupted smoothness]? On Barth life and

work, see Hoffmeister; on the appropriation in Late Humanism of Claudian as Christian, see Reinhart, 1999a, 283-84, 288-95 passim. Veluti Scythae & Parthi hostes; ita Emblemata Apodosim … retrospiciendo vibrare debent.| Apodosim: Gk. ἀπόδοσις [a giving back, or repayment]. The Scyth-

ians and Parthians were highly skilled cavalry warriors and mounted archers

ne

oe

Pulchra sunt quae dixi, sed intimius oculos mentemque perstringit ipsius

argumenti dignitas & nitor. Feruidum Pacis studium in lapideis hominum animis concitare laboras,

& quae alij calidis suspiriis flagitant,

tu blando modo sub clypeis foves. Singula, quae jam volvere desisto, mibi prae-

sens imaginatio eum in modum sistit, ac si nunc prisca quies, revocataque

saecula

rursus**

contigissent, & quasi Aulaea haecce omnibus limbolariorum lenocinijs absolu-

tissima coram intuerer: Praeest oculis meis (ita persuadeor) FERDINANDI CAESARIS Litera Symbolica, cui imminet Imperialis corona: Olivae folia

incirca protuberant, cum baccis turgidulis; elegans ramorum serpit contextus, e& quasi moderatae vernilitatis laetitia arridet: Vexilla hinc & vela fluctuant, effert se buccina, ventricosum se tympanum extollit: illinc prominent arma, hastae se erigunt, gladij micant, hamatae in pharetris sagittae pendent, & cristata superbit galea. His omnibus amabili oculorum mendacio suspensis quasi per aérem, subjacent bellicae temptestatis aestuantia fulmina, rauca to-

nitrua & sulphurei imbres. Sed quae dixi, fimbriam À tapeti area, (si utique tuam assecutus sum mentem) discretam faciunt, & ne otiosus

videatur ornatus, Claudianis occupabitur schedis. Ad limen tabulae Palma umbris decora erigitur, sub quarum amoeno tegmine adnexi cernuntur Clypei ignita undique resplendescentes pulchritudine. Ad radices autem Arboris proρὲ est, & distat artis palmarium, palmetum, inquam, scité ad Optices leges dispositum. Sed prolixus sum, & caligat ad haec omnia, quae scribo, inanis

contemplatio. Quid igitur addam? Futurae tranquillitatis Omen arripio, ex Imperatoris nostri clementissimi, vertiato in hoc fastigio FERDINANDI Claud. in Ruf. 1. v. 357.

with the legendary ability to shoot arrows while turned in retreat (Trogus, HP

41.2; cf. Herod., 4). The striking analogy here relates to the unexpected ways in which emblems may produce, or reveal, meaning.

prisca quies, revocataque saecula rursus\ Claud., Ruf. 1.357, “prisca quies renovataque saecula rursus.” FERDINANDI

CAESARIS Litera Symbolica\ Namely, “F IL” (comprising

part of the template at the top of each tapestry; see the figures for this).

His omnibus amabili oculorum mendacio suspensis quasi per aérem\ The irony here belongs to the general tenor of the pamphlet, which is at pains to show

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350

84.

ee

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The things I have mentioned are beautiful; but what especially holds the eyes and the mind are the authority and the grace of the argument itself. You seek to arouse a fervent zeal for peace within the stony hearts of men; and whereas others may belabor the issue with heated breath, you foster it gently, in the very midst of battle. The details of the tapestries (which I shall

not go over again) somehow coalesce in my imagination now, as if the ancient peace, the restoration of that age™

had occurred, and as if I were looking directly upon these tapestries complete with all the weavers’ enticements (so I am persuaded): suddenly, there appear before my eyes, with full clarity, the symbolic initials of Emperor Ferdinand, above which hangs the imperial crown. Encircling the crown are olive leaves with plump berries; an elegant latticework of branches

creeps smiling in the amusement of its restrained jesting. On one side flags

and sails fly, a trumpet sounds, a kettle drum booms. On the other, weapons are prominent, spears brandished, swords flashing, notched arrows hanging in quivers at ready, crested helmets displaying their pride. While the pleasant illusion of all this floats before my eyes, as though upon air, war's stormy explosions continue to rage below, with raucous thunder and sulpherous rains. But as I noted, they constitute only the border, separate from the main field of the tapestry (as I understand your concept); and lest the adornment seem frivolous, it is filled with sayings of Claudian. At the base of the picture a graceful palm rises out of the shadows, under whose welcome roof shields lean at rest, resplendent in fiery beauty. Near the roots of the tree, skillfully set off according to the laws of perspective, is a palm grove of consummate artistry. But I am rambling, and empty speculation obscures matters even as I write. What, therefore, shall I add? I seize on an omen of future tranquility in our most merciful emperor, the third by the 84.

Claud. Ruf 1.357.

that what appears to be true is worse than what actually exists. Underlying this thought is the topos “Multa in bellis inania” (Eras., Adag. 2.10.19; cf. Cic., Att. 5.20.3). In this instance, Harsdôrffer is analyzing for meaning within the structure of the emblem. As he understands the author’s (Milag’s) intent, the fact that the fierce images of warfare constitute the border signifies that violence is only peripheral to the political reality (the center of the emblem, symbolized by the FG), which is concerned with effecting peace. FERDINANDI] Corrects “FERDINANDAEL”

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nominis numero. Monas, censente Pythagora, fundamentum est rerum omnium; Dyas contentionis er litis notio; ternarius vero numerus

Concordiae

dicatus, & dirimendis dissidijs aptissimus habetur. In partes divisum ferreum saeculum, satis, plus satis viximus; succedant otia curis,*

& ut quondam DEI Filius, sub primae (secun- dum nostra horo-

logia) horae initium, ferrum in cruce est expertus & ad tertiam pati desijt: sic

sub EERDINANDO I, coepit per Germaniam grassari bellum, sub Imperio FERDINAND III. eliminetur ferrum, modus esto calamitatis, & Pax successu laeta resurgat.*®

Sed quid plura praedicem, ut magis imitator tui, quam probator videar? Haec ego amicus, sed non ut amicus: Boni peritique judices omnes dicent,

quos in hoc aevo optem tibi potius, quam praestem. Quemadmodum singulis hominibus, pro temperamenti & humorum ratione, diversissima est oculorum

acies, utque alius offusa luminum hebetudine, cuncta tanquam per nubecu-

lam intuetur; alius dissita parum, propiora accuratius adsequitur; alius vitreis conspicillis verits, alius suis oculis rectiùs prospicit: sic profecto ingenia, vel falsarum opinionum lippitudine, vel interni (ut sic loquar) nervi optici imbecil-

litate, vel umbratilis vitae consuetudine, ad intimam rerum evidentiam saepè bona fide caligant, adeoque suo quisque supercilio caecu- tire 85.

Claud. in Ruf. 2 in praef. 13.

86.

Claud. epig. de torped. 11.

Monas... Dyas... ternarius| A statement of the fundamental Pythagorean doctrine of being and creation, in which the self-generation of the monad creates time, number, and harmony (Heninger, 71-145).

in Ruf. 2 in praef. 13.) Emends “de bell. Gild. in praef. 13.’

& ut quondam DEI Filius sub primae ... ad tertiam pati desijt} The sequence of the crucifixion is forced into an epochal three-“hour” period in order to achieve a parallel historical model with the three Ferdinands. According to scripture, there is a literal six-hour difference between crucifixion and death (Mark 15:25, 34).

sic sub FERDINANDO I, coepit per Germaniam grassari bellum, sub Imperio FERDINAND III. eliminetur ferrum] The confessional wars in Germany began to spread after the Peace of Augsburg (1555): Ferdinand I ruled 1556-65;

353

name of Ferdinand to have occupied this throne. In Pythagorean doctrine the monad is the basis of all reality; the dyad represents the idea of conflict

and strife; but the triad is known as the number of concord and is considered most effective in resolving dissonance. We have lived in factions long enough, more than long enough, in this divided iron age. Let peace succeed these labors.

At the beginning of the first hour (according to our clock) the Son of God felt the blade on the cross, and at the third hour ceased to suffer. Similarly, as under Ferdinand I war began to spread through Germany, may the sword be sheathed and hostilities cease under Ferdinand III. Let peace spring up joyfully in its success.*°

But why continue if I should seem only more to imitate than to praise you? I, your friend, say these things, but not as your friend. All good and skillful judges in fact will say these things; rather than myself, I would wish those judges for you at this time. Depending on temperament and humor, the eyes of individuals can vary significantly in acuity. One person may see everything confused by the dimness of his sight; another recognizes distant objects poorly but nearer ones more accurately; another perceives things more truly with eyeglasses; another, still more correctly, unaided, Thus, surely, affected either by a blurriness of false opinions, or by weakness of

the internal optical nerve (so to speak), or by a life spent in dim light, it is 85.

86.

Οἰαυά, Ruf. 2. pref. 13.

Claud., Zorp. 11.

Ferdinand II, 1619-37; Ferdinand III, 1637-57. In the dedication (unpaginated) of his Arboretum genealogicum to Emperor Ferdinand III, Johann Gans

takes the spear (“ferrum”) that pierced Jesus (John 19:34) as a metaphor for the war that has beset Germany for the past nearly 100 years, beginning with Emperor Ferdinand I (the first “hour”). Borrowing the tradition according to which Jesus was pierced in the first hour of the day and ceased from suffering in the third, Gans finds hope that Germany’s ordeal likewise will end (“eliminetur ferrum”) in the third “hour” of war with the imminent election of Emperor Ferdinand III (r. from 1637).

successu laeta resurgat| Claud., Torp. 11: “successu laeta resurgit.”

epig. de torped. 11.| Emends “epig. de torped. 10.’

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gestiat, vel non rarò judicando, de suo judicio quid existimandum sit, palam facit. Sed nibil est, ad tua haec, quod metuas, veras à Principe nostro laudes agnosces, & Lectores solemnes frequentabunt acclamationes Omnes, Omnes!

our nature to spread such a dark mist (often in good faith) over the reality of things, so that each man may even exult in his own blindness, or else in his frequent judging he makes it clear what must be thought about his judgment. But none of this should cause you alarm, for you will receive true praise from our Prince, and all serious readers—all!—will join him in applauding you! I bid you farewell.

Vale.

G.P.H.

COROLLARIUM

PHILOLOGICUM.

AUlaea graecis αὐλαία dicta, ab αὐλὴ (e hac turata, versicolori textura illustria, quibus Aulaeum autem in sing. dixit Cicero in Orat. ant, Aulaeum tollitur, Plutarchus in Public. &

ab Ebraeo 27x) vela sunt picaularum parietes vestiuntur. pro Caelio: Scabella concrepSolon. 3 παρακαλύμματα, alij

περιστρώματα & περιπετάσματα vocant. Scaliger etiam Poétas, aulaea pari-

etum preciosorum zominat. Servius ad 3. Georg scribit aulaea primitus in Aula Regis Attali adinventa, cui suffragatur Plin. 8.196. & Propert. 2.32.12. Porticus aulaeis nobilis Attalicis.

Hinc Attalica dicimus, quae magnifica sunt, & conditiones Attalicas, quales nimirum Rex ille a Pop. Rom. obtinuit. Valer. Max. 4.8. Plautus voCOROLLARIUM PHILOLOGICUM COROLLARIUM “garland” or “gift”; later also “corollary,” i.e., something in addition, as in Boet., Cons. 3.10.80: “Super haec . . . igitur veluti geometrae so-

lent demonstratis propositis aliquid inferre quae porismata ipsi vocant, ita ego quoque tibi veluti corollarium dabo” [Now in addition to these things. . . just as geometricians are used to draw from the theorems they have proved what they call porismata (corollaries), so I shall give you too a kind of corollary; trans. Tester].

αὐλαία) Curtains, especially the sumptuously woven kind known as Attalica aulaea found in Prop. 2.32.12 and Plin., 8.196. The aulaeum had been a theater curtain since the first century B.C.E. (Cic., Cael. 27.65; Ov., Met. 3.111). αὐλή] “court” or “hall”; emends original avy. ab Ebraeo 5K] False etymology. Heb. 5nx (ohel), meaning “tent,” is in no

way related to αὐλαία. In Hebrew, the proper equivalent of aulaeum would be sian (parocheth), meaning “temple curtain.”

Scabella concrepant, Aulaeum tollitur\ Cic., Cael. 27.65. A scabillum (-ellum) was a tap shoe used to mark time for dancers, or, in the context implied by

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G.P.H.

PHILOLOGICAL COROLLARY. Aulaea—Greek αὐλαία, from αὐλὴ (and this from the Hebrew bnx)—are figured canvases, woven illustrations in many colors, with which the walls of palaces are attired. Cicero uses the word in the singular in his Oratio pro Caelio in saying, “The clappers sound and the curtain rises.” Plutarch, in

Publicola 3, uses the term παρακαλύμματα [curtains], while others call them

περιστρώματα [tapestries] or περιπετάσματα [wrappings]. Scaliger in fact calls poets “tapestries of precious walls.” Servius, on Vergil’s Georgics, book 3, remarks that the au/aea were invented at the court of King Attalus, and this is corroborated by Pliny 8.196. and Propertius 2.32.12.: a noble portico with Attalican tapestries.

For that reason we designate as “Attalica” things that are magnificent, and as “Attalican conditions” those which the reputed king received from Cicero, to indicate that it was time to raise the stage curtain.

in Public. & Solon| Emends “in Public. & Athenae.” The Athenian statesman

Solon was often called by the name of his city.

παρακαλύμματα] The occurrence of παρακαλύμματα in section 3 (correcting orig. “4.10.”) of Publicola is in fact metaphorical for feigned behavior. A more apt example from Plutarch for “curtain” may be found in his life of Alexander, section 51. Poëtas, aulaea parietum preciosorum] I have been unable to locate such a state-

ment in Scaliger.

Servius ad 3. Georg. | Servius’s (third century CE) commentary at Geor. 3 speaks of the figured purple curtains of a shrine to Caesar. Plin. 8.196.] Emends “Plin. 8.48.2.”

cat belluata tapetia (ζωωτα) quod in theatris ostentabantur mirifica populo

monstra aulaeis intexta. unde Am. Marcellin. 16.12.57. ait: Et velut in quodam theatrali spectaculo, aulaeis miranda monstrantibus, multa licebat sine metu videre.

belluata tapetia (ξωωτα)} Plaut., Ps. 147 (sc. 2,1. 15). Am. Marcellin. 16.12.57] Emends “Am. Marcellin. 16.4”

the Roman

people. Valerius Maximus

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ῳ9 LA

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4.8. Plautus uses the term “animal

tapestries” (ζωωτα) to refer to those displaying to a theater audience wondrous beasts embroidered on tapestries. Thus Ammianus Marcellinus 16.12.57: “And as in any theatrical show, one can marvel at the many monster-tapestries without experiencing fear.”

Two Research Notes on Rollenhagen’s Emblems MASON TUNG University of Idaho

Rollenhagen’s Indebtedness to and Independence from Camerarius According to Ilja Veldman and Clara Klein, Crispijn van de Passe (15641637) showed Gabriel Rollenhagen (1583-1619) eleven prints from his

previously published Arcus Cupidinis id est, Nova emblemata amatoria and suggested that they should collaborate on a project of making five volumes

of 100 engravings each. Rollenhagen would choose the remaining 489 sub-

jects from emblem and impresa books and compose verses for them. Used as

the model for the rest of the volumes, the eleven prints from Arcus were incorporated into the first volume, the Nucleus emblematum selectissimorum,

quae Itali vulgo impresas vocant, which was jointly published in 1611 by De

Passe and Jan Janszoon at Cologne and Arnhem (for details, see Veldman and Klein, 271, n. 13, and Veldman, 117, figs. 4, 5, 8, and 10). At Utrecht in 1613 was published the second volume, entitled Gabrielis Rollenhagii selectorum emblematum centuria secunda (Veldman and Klein, 269; 271,

n. 12). Having served as the “caretaker-manager” and “first notary” of the Magdeburg Cathedral since 1601, Rollenhagen produced no more literary

works after 1614 and died at the age of 37 in 1619. Thus ended his involve-

ment with emblem and impresa books and so he left the ambitious proj-

ect unfinished. In the meantime, De Passe was distracted from completing

the work by other projects, including the publishing in 1618 of Thronus Cupidinis sive emblemata amatoria. This publication embroiled him in com361 Emblematica, Volume 21. Copyright © 2014 by AMS Press, Inc. All rights reserved.

Sa a

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petition with Willem Jansz, the publisher of Daniel Heinsiuss Emblemata amatoria, for which De Passe and his sons had also done the engravings (La Fontaine Verwey, 29f£.).

In the dedication to Archbishop Christian Wilhelm of Magdeburg,

Rollenhagen reveals what he has done:

Ex infinito Picturarum poetarum, quae Emblemata, Graeci Itali imprese vocant, numero, €a quae nervis, SUCCO, sanguine et anima sua non destitui deprehendi, in aliquot Centurias digessi, meis inven-

tionibus locupletavi, et brevissimis symbolis ornavi, singulisque saltem

distichis, animo sereno, horis subsecivis, ambulants et interdum stans pede in uno accurato explicui. (Veldman and Klein, 270 and n. 11). [From the infinite number of poetical pictures which the Greeks call emblems and the Italian imprese, 1 have selected the most vigorous, tasty, vivid and spiritual ones, I have arranged them into a few divisions of a hundred, I have added my own inventions, and I have provided them with very brief mottoes and I have carefully amplified

them with at least a single distich, in a serene state of mind, in my spare time, walking and occasionally without much effort.] (English translation by Michael Hoyle)

This passage reveals three aspects of his work: selection, invention, and method of composition. Previous studies of his selections have mentioned several authors of both emblems and imprese: Camerarius, Junius, Jan David (Bath, 5 and 7); Alciato, Sambucus, Junius, Paradin, Simeoni, Camerarius (Harms, 49);

and Paradin, Sambucus, Simeoni, Alciato, and Typotius (Daly, 204, 208, 210). Veldman and Klein list ten authors, including most of the above

but adding Corrozet, Aneau, and Bargagli (284, nn. 39-42). In compiling the Impresa Index, I have discovered that almost halfof Rollenhagen’s 200 emblems are based on impresa books (for details, see Tung, appendix C.2, 437-39). Since Camerarius’s Symbola et emblemata

is a collection of

may also have inspired the qualifying clause in his own

title, “quae Itali

both emblems and imprese (symbola), it may very well have been one of the models that Rollenhagen had selected (Veldman and Klein, 272) and vulgo impresas vocant In what follows I will show how much Rollenhagen

is indebted to Camerariuss Symbola et emblemata and how much he is

independent of his influential predecessor, using as an analytical basis 23

Rollehagen emblems in which 21 have the same pictures and fourteen the same mottoes as Camerarius’s. Begun in 1580, Camerarius’s impresa and emblem book in manuscript had 200 medallion-shaped pictures with single distichs as epigrams (see the recent edition by Harms and Hess). Translating impresa into symbolum in the title, Camerarius converted the manuscript version, consisting of both natural and artificial subjects, to those exclusively of flora and fauna, and published the 400 selections with copper engravings by Hans Sibmacher in four books between 1590 and 1604. The fact that Camerarius had limited himself to a single distich for all 400

epigrams must have influenced Rollenhagen to do the same. By following Camerarius example, he had to abandon the example set by Arcus Cupidinis of writing a tetrastich for each of the ten emblems, the eleventh being a distich. He did follow, however, its practice of repeating the mot-

to in his distichs (more on this later). Unlike Camerarius, who provided for each of his emblem or impresa a scholarly and erudite prose commen-

tary, Rollenhagen shunned the path of the scholar. In short, choosing to go his own way of “invention,” he has shown independence from this particular model.

Both Wolfgang Harms and Dietmar Peil have studied Rollenhagens invention and method of composition in detail. Harms shows that the fragmentary nature of some of his mottoes and distichs encourages the erudite reader to participate in the interpretative process while Peil, though accepting Harms’s conclusion, registers a note of caution. To him it appears that

Harms’ assertion “may not of course be applied to all [of Rollenhagens]

emblems” (280). And in a note, he biguous interpretations are found statements on the level of meaning distinct relations between the levels

cites examples to show that “[u]namin those epigrams which make clear (cf, e.g., 1,39, 53, 55, 91) or establish of picture and meaning (cf, e.g., 1,46,

48, 58, 11,31)” (280, n. 43). Indeed, many more emblems than Peil has listed show distinct relation between image and meaning, which is also true of even a greater number of Camerarius’s distichs, as we will now demon-

strate. Among the aforementioned 23 pairs of emblems, we discover that Camerarius has both image and meaning in nineteen distichs, whereas

Rollenhagen shows both in only fourteen distichs. To visualize the relation between image and meaning more concretely and to measure the degree of

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Camerariuss influence more closely, we will compare three representative examples (the following English translations are mine):! 1. Rollenhagen, 2.61: “HODIE SIC VERTITVR ORBIS” [So is the globe turned today] (with image of globe and crab). Quid mirum, cancri mundum consistere tergo, Sic hodie guoniam vertitur orbis iter.

the way of the globe turned today.]

Camerarius, 4.54: “Orbis iter” [The way of the globe] (with similar motto, and the same picture). Miraris cancri dorso consurgere mundum? Desine: sic hodie vertitur orbis iter.

[Do you wonder how the world rose from the back of a crab? Stop, such is the way of the globe today. |

1.96: “TRIBVLATIO

(with image of flail and wheat).

DITAT”

[Threshing enriches]

TRIBVLAT atq; quatit segetes DITESCERE sperans Rusticus, et nobis crux bené nostra facit.

[In hopes of becoming rich the farmer presses and beats the wheat, and we are ennobled by the cross.] Camerarius, 1.84: with the same motto and picture.

Si tritura absit, paleis sunt abdita grana: Nos crux mundanis separat a paleis.

[If there is no threshing, the grains are concealed by the chaff; the cross separates us from the worldly chaff.]

3. Rollenhagen, 2.20: “PRO LEGE ET PRO GREGE” [For law and flock] (with image of pelican and chicks). 1:

Dux, vitam, bonus, et pro lege, et pro grege ponit. Haec veluti pullos sanguine spargit avis.

[ The good leader gives up his life for both law and people, as this bird sprinkles blood on its young. | Camerarius, 3.37: with the same motto and picture. Sanguine vivificat Pelecanus pignora, sic rex

{What marvel, to stand the world on a crab’s back, seeing that, such is

2. Rollenhagen,

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Because Rollenhagen so clearly makes the formatting of the mottoes and τῆς distichs critical to a complete understanding of their function, the original formatting is maintained when these are cited for the first time. Subsequent citations

will be in the normal Emblematica style, with capitalization and italicization removed and spelling modernized.

Pro Propulo [sic] vita est prodigus ipse sua.

[As the pelican keeps her chicks alive by her blood, so the king is generous with his own life for his people. ]

All three pairs of examples show that the distichs of both authors depict metaphorical relations between images and meanings. The first pair compares the motion of the crab to the way of the world, the second relates the threshing of the wheat to the suffering on the cross, and the third considers the pelican’s feeding her chicks with her blood as a metaphor of the king’s or good leader giving of his life for his people. Despite their brevity, these distichs fulfill the function of the emblematic triad completely and with closure. There is nothing one should wish to add. Consequently, Camerarius’s influence is apparent. For instance, in the first pair of distichs, Camararius has expanded his motto, “Orbis iter,’ to read “sic hodie vertitur orbis iter” in the second line (4.54). By repeating his motto, “Hodie sic ver-

titur orbis” switching the first two words, and adding at the end the word iter (2.61), this time all in roman type, Rollenhagen has made his second line almost identical to Camerariuss. Moreover, the indebtedness goes beyond the mottoes; it includes the latter's opening words of both lines.

Camerarius opens his first line with “Miraris” [Do you wonder], which influences Rollenhagen’s “Quid mirum” [What marvel], and his opening word “Desine” [Stop] in the second line is paralleled by the latter's third

word “quoniam” [seeing chat]. These are all filler words in the sense that they not only fulfill the required meter of each line but also may be omitted without affecting the meaning of the sentences. Quoting these sentences would be like repeating the same sentence twice: they are so close in meaning that they simply cannot be coincidental. We should always keep in mind, however, the fact that the distichs have the same image and motto, and that their authors may be borrowing from the same sources. The same, though to a lesser extent, is true of the influence in comparing the wheat

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wich che cross and the pelican with king or good leader in the next two

pairs. In choosing not to equate Christ with che pelican as implied by the crucifixion scene in the background of his engraving, Rollenhagen shows his closer dependence on Camerarius.* Nevertheless, Rollenhagen’s inde-

pendence is maintained by repeating the mottoes in the second line of his first distich and in the first lines of his second and third distichs above. The

repeating of mottoes in the first lines will recur in the next two pairs that

will be quoted below. We come now to demonstrate the two kinds of deviation from the first

group of both description and interpretation. The first example is to show

the lack of reference to the image; the second is to show the lack of refer-

ence to the moral in the distichs:

1. Rollenhagen, 1.98: “AUT MORS AUT VITA DECORA” death or noble life] (with image of hunter and boar).

[Either

Alterutrum optandum est, AUT MORS AUT VITA DECORA, Turpe fuga vitam quaerere: Malo mori. [One or the other is to be chosen, either death or noble life; shameful

to seek life in fight: I prefer to die.]

Camerarius, 2.48: with the same motto and picture. Dixeris hos fortes, quos nec formidine mortis, Pro patria laetos occubuisse juvat. [You will have placed among the gods these happy bold ones, whom it delights to have laid down their lives for their country, and not in fear of death. |

2. Rollenhagen, 1.60: “TVTIVS VT POSSIT FIGI” [That it might be fastened more securely] (with image of dolphin and anchor). TUTIUS UT POSSIT FIGI maris anchora fundo, Adiuvat humanam piscis amicus opem.

[So thar the anchor can be fastened more securely to the sea bed, a

τ.

friendly fish comes to the human’s aid.]

Six other pairs with the same pictures and mottoes also belong to this group: Rol 1.52/Cam 3.79, Rol 2.02/Cam 2.88, Rol 2.51/Cam 1.49, Rol 2.56/Cam 2.41, Rol 2.57/Cam 2.89, and Rol 2.68/Cam 1.63.

367

Camerarius, 4.09: with the same motto and picture. Auspiciis nostris tutum te littore sistam,

Stabit & in portu vestra carina suo. [I will place you safe on our auspicious shore, and your ship will remain in its port.]

In the first pair, both distichs refer to neither the hunter nor the boar in the image. In the second, both make no overt moral interpretations. Each merely describes what the dolphin is about to do or promises to do. Unlike instances of referring to both image and moral, in which Camerarius outnumbers Rollenhagen nineteen to fourteen, the latter outnumbers the former seven to three in referring to no image and five to two in referring to no moral in their distichs. The last differences may indicate Camerarius’s greater seriousness in providing morals, and the second may reflect Rellenhagen’s lesser concern for describing images, yet all three dissimilarities combine to highlight the latter's proclivity to be independent. Such a tendency is more evident among the nine emblems that have different mottoes. As is to be expected, different mottoes bring about different morals. Two examples will suffice. For the picture of birds surrounding a scepter, Rollenhagen (1.55) chooses “CONSENSV

POPVLI

REGNVM

SUB-

SISTIT” [The people’s consensus continues the kingdom], repeats it in the first line, and continues with “et urbes / Pace vigent, cives si bené conveniant”

[and cities thrive in peace, if citizens may harmonize well]. In contrast,

Camerarius (3.57) uses “Concordes vivite” [Live in concord] and gives a different moral: “Iuncta pudicitiae si sit concordia, sancto / Conjugio haud quicquam dignitus orbis habet” [If chastity and concord may be united, Earth has scarcely anything more worthy than holy matrimony]. Again, Rollenhagen (2.92) chooses “NON NOBIS”

[Not for us] for the picture

of a beehive and gives the moral “Ut vos, non vobis, canitis bona carmina vates, / Sic nos non nobis mellificamus apes” [As you poets sing good poems not for yourselves, So we bees make honey not for us], whereas Camerarius

used the motto of “Labor omnibus unus” [One labor for all] for the pic-

ture of three beehives, studia et mores et jura scholar, who wishes to learning, customs, and

and provided a different moral: “Doctus apium et revolvat, / Qui bene vult populis dicere jura suis” [A speak well of the laws of his people, may consider the laws of the bees]. We may infer from these examples

368

EMBLEMATICA

Mason Tung

that if Rollenhagen wanted to be independent, he simply selected a differ-

ent motto (other emblems with different mottoes are 1.23, 1.30, 1.34, 1.36,

1,40, 1.74, and 2.78).

Finally, among Rollenhagen’s 200 emblems there are only four (1.58,

1.72, 2.15, and 2.31) in which the mottoes are not repeated in the distichs.

This rare occurrence is an indication of both his departure from not only the eleven emblems of Arcus in which all the mottoes are repeated but also his own 185 distichs. What made him do it? Surely we cannot rule out the possibility that he was curious to find out if he could write his distich the way Camerarius did, thereby revealing an unmistakable indebtedness to his model. If we should read these four emblems without being told whose they are, we would be hard pressed not to identify them as written by Camerarius. Moreover, two of the emblems follow the same pattern of referring to both image and meaning as for example in 1.72; see also 2.31, “ALIIS IN SERVIENDO consumed]:

CONSUMOR’

[In the service of others I am

Ut candela perit, nobis dum lumina praestat Dux ita, subiectos dum fovet, ipse cadit. [Just as the candle perishes while granting us light, so the prince dies

himself while caring for his subjects. ]}

But in 2.15, “NON DORMIT QUI CUSTODIT” [He who guards sleeps not], no reference is made to the image of a stork atop a crook: Detinet hunc non alta quies similisque sapori, Qui vigili, nostras res, ratione, regit.

[Deep sleep detains not such by similar discernment who rules our affairs with a vigilant motive. ] Furthermore, 1.58, “POST TENTATIONEM CONSOLATIO” solation after trial], refers not to the meaning in the distich:

369

Consequently, we may conclude that the most salient feature of Rollenhagen’s independence is in the repeating of the motto in his distich, a feature found in no other emblem or impresa writers (granted the exception of those in the Arcus). What are the advantages and disadvantages of

repeating the motto? Did it make the writing of the distich easier or more difficult? Did it contribute to making his mottoes and distichs fragmentary? These questions deserve answers, which will be attempted in the next note.

Rollenhagen’s Iterating Mottoes in His Epigrams Among emblem writers, Rollenhagen repeats mottoes quite often in the epigrams of his emblem books. To date, studies of his emblems all mention the iterations, often verbatim, but do not attempt to determine either his rationale or the modus operandi of this ingenious practice (see Harms;

Daly; Peil; Daly and Young). In fact, none has mentioned that the length of his mottoes varies from one word to as many as eight words in four languages (see Peil, 275, n. 37). Is it easier, one wonders, for him to repeat a threeword motto or a seven-word motto? Must he also maintain the prosodic integrity of those mostly elegiac distichs by rearranging or modifying the words of the mottoes? What is to be said about mottoes in languages other than Latin? The purpose of this note is not to answer all these questions, important though they certainly are. To answer them properly, cooperative efforts may be required from those who are trained in prosodic analyses of epigrams written in Latin, Greek, Italian, and French. The present goal is, instead, to arouse curiosity and generate interest among emblem scholars by revealing the wide variety of Rollenhagen’s patterns of repeating, rearranging, and modifying the mottoes in both Nucleus emblematum selectissimorum and Emblematum centuria secunda (1611-

[Con-

Languescunt flores radijs Solaribus vsti Per pluuias soliti tollere sponte caput.

[The flowers languish when the sun's rays scorch them; by the usual rain, they raise their heads voluntarily. }

Such recurrence ofa similar pattern may indicate the residue of Camerarius’s influence.

13). In what follows, I will first enumerate the various recurrent patterns of his methods and then make some representative comments on their poetic qualities, beginning with the one-word mottoes. English translations of Latin words will be provided whenever their meanings are involved. There are nine one-word mottoes. Four of these are repeated verbatim in the beginning of the first verse; for example, “MATURA mora longa nocet

spes omnis in alis” (1.18). In 2.69, however, two words are inserted in front

of the motto “FERIO”: “Er pueros Ferio et teneras, mea regna, puellas” The change from the small capitals of “matura” to the roman type of “Ferio” is

370

EMBLEMATICA

the work of the engravers, over whom Rollenhagen seems to have no control, but these examples serve as the two main prototypes of repetition— one in small capitals, the other in roman type, so that they stand out within the verses in italic type. In the middle of the first verse is repeated the motto “PEDETENTIM”: “Per glaciem cautus pedetentim transeo, lente” (2.19). A final word is inserted after the motto “TRANSEAT” iterated at the end of 1.20, making it the penultimate word. Having a tetrastich instead of a distich, epigram 1.35 belongs to one of the eleven emblems from the Arcus Cupidinis, a collection printed by De Passe but incorporated later into Nucleus. Since Rollenhagen’s authorship of Arcus is uncertain, these eleven emblems will be dealt with as a group in a later section. [τ is interesting to note that, if Rollenhagen did not compose these eleven emblems, then his iterative practice seems not to have been his own invention, but rather a continuation of that from the Arcus. Two mottoes are repeated verbatim in the beginning of the second verse, as in 2.89, “UTCUNQUE hoc, fugiens sors retinenda, modo est.” In 2.55, it is closer to the middle, “Quod DEUS ABRUMPET cum volet. Esto pius.’ Morever, the motto “ABRUMPAM” is modified to ABRUMPET, a change of the future tense from first to third persons. This modification is the only one among the nine one-word mottoes. Is it not interesting that six of the nine are verbs? Not quoted above are: “DVRABO” (1.26) and “FLAVESCENT” (1.44). Moreover, eight of the nine mottoes are iterated verbatim. Four times as common as the one-word mottoes, the two-word variety uses verbs in only a little over half of the 37 emblems in which it is found. The placement of the mottoes—that is, at the beginning, middle, and end of both verses—follows more or less the same pattern as in the one-word kind, but with many more modifications. A similar pattern of repetition is that they tend to occur more in the first verse than in the second. Because of the two-word construct, many new patterns emerge. The two words are separated, and both are modified. For instance, the motto in 1.96, “TRIBULATIO DITAT is split between the beginning and the end of the first verse, and both words are modified: “TRIBULAT atque quatit segetes DITESCERE sperans ....’ The difference in meaning between “ditat”

[enriches] and “ditescere” [to grow rich] is slight, but the infinitive gives

Rollenhagen four syllables, the last three of which form a dactyl that is required in the fifth foot of the hexameter. This modification is therefore necessary and recurs often at that position.

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371

Another new pattern is that the words are split but unchanged: “FESTINAT celeri lapsu DECURRERE vita” (2.54; see also 2.93, 2.59, 2.79). Another is where the words are switched: “Ad diuos MANIBVS PVRIS adeunto, fideli” from “PVRIS MANIBVS” (1.41, also in 2.04). Sometimes they are switched, but only one is modified: “Judice freta Deo, superat FIDUCIA CONSTANS” from “Constante fiducia” (1.69). Still other times they are split and switched, but unmodified: “oBsTANT

(quid faciam?) Pulcris, FATA

jnvida, coeptis” from “FATA OBSTANT” (2.90), as well as unsplit and switched, with both modified: “Jn pueros, pueris mutuus ardor inest” from “AMORE MUTUO?” (2.44). Only one word repeated and the other modified occurs often: “Vivat adhuc, studiis INVIGILABO TAMEN” from “TAMEN DISCAM?” (1.75, also in 1.84, 2.35, 2.36, 2.37). Another unsplit example

in which both words are modified is found in 2.45: “CONCORDES superare potest vis nulla, nec ullus .. ? from “CONCORDIA INSUPERABILIS.” “Concordia” is replaced with “Concordes” [the united], the accusative plural of “concors” and “insuperabilis” [unconquerable], is changed by the periphrasis of “superare potest vis nulla” [no force is able to conquer the united]. Still another new pattern is found in repeating one word and modifying the other in both verses. The motto, “REDIBO PLENIOR’ [I will return

fuller] in 2.48, is repeated with the first word modified in the first verse: “Luna redit semper, sed lumine Plenior aucto” [The moon always returns, but with enlarged fuller light], while in the second verse they are switched with the same modification: “Praeda rex, victo, plenior, hoste, redit” [The king returns fuller in booty from conquered enemies]. As if this were not ingenious enough, Rollenhagen tries to outwit himself in 1.73 by repeating this pattern with many new twists. First, he repeats the second word “fumus” [ash] in the motto “HUMANA

FUMUS” but changes the first word

“humana” [human] into “sumus” [we are] in both verses. Next, he uses the form of syllogism in composing the epigram: “Pulvis et umbra sumus, puluis nihil est nisi fumus” [We are dust and shadow, dust is nothing but smoke], “Sed nibil est fumus, nos nihil ergo sumus” [But smoke is nothing, therefore we are nothing]. Unintentionally, perhaps, he has created internal as well as end rhymes, but intentionally he has produced effective rhetorical repetition (ploche) and reverse parallelism (antistrophe: as in sumus and fumus in the first verse and fiumus and sumus in the second).

While the reader struggles with the variety of his iterative patterns, Rollenhagen calmly and casually changes the versifications in some of the

372

EMBLEMATICA

epigrams. His manner has been anticipated in the dedication to Archbishop Wilhelm: “animo sereno, horis subsecivis, ambulants et interdum stans pede in uno accurato explicui” [I have carefully amplified them... in a serene state of mind, in my spare time, walking and occasionally without much effort] (Veldman and Klein, 270, n.11). Here he may have changed

the elegiac distich in 2.17 to that of hendecasyllabic: “Vitam quod faciat beatiorem / Prudens simplicitas, pie putamus” These two verses of eleven syllables are more suitable for depicting the subject of prudent simplicity because they are simpler without a regular meter. He may also have substituted an iambic senarius (or iambic trimeter) for the dactylic pentameter

of the second verse in 2.92; “Sic nos non nobis mellificamus apes,’ as well as an iambic dimeter acatalectic for that in 2.100; “Quis perseveret, ultimum.” These speculative observations must, of course, be verified by experts in prosodic analysis. The last pattern, finally, is a negative example; that is to say, the motto in 2.11 is not repeated. It and four others (1.58, 1.72, 2.15, and 2.31) form a group that technically falls outside of the subject of this

investigation (but see below).

Enough, however, has been demonstrated of the enormous variety in Rollenhagen’s repeating the mottoes that the next two types, three-word and four-word, may be passed over. Because of their greater numbers, in 79 and 45 emblems, respectively, enumerating their patterns in the same way as for the first two types may diminish the curiosity and dampen whatever interest has been built up. Accordingly, their patterns will be relegated to the appendix (see below) in outline form so that still curious and interested researchers may work out these patterns for themselves. In the rest of this note, I will focus only on the most curious and interesting examples selected among the remaining four types (from five- to eight-word mottoes). Following the pattern set in three- and four-word mottoes, the five-word motto in 1.05 is also split between the two verses: “Saepé LABORE fuit VIRTUS, VIRTUTE PARATA / GLORIA, non alio concilianda modo.” Except for the words “saepe” and “fuit” surrounding “labore” and “Gloria” moving from between “virtute” and “paratur” to the beginning of the second verse, and the word “paratur” changed to “parata,” the motto “LABORE VIRTUS, VIRTUTE GLORIA PARATUR’ could almost have been repeated verbatim but for the meter. Similarly, the motto, “By labor virtue, by virtue glory is procured,’ is skillfully amplified by the rhetorical repetitions that effectively persuade the reader: “Often by labor virtue has been gained, by

Mason Tung

373

virtue glory has been obtained, by no other way should they be procured.” A far greater alteration is the motto in 1.08, “IN HUNC INTUENS PIUS ESTO” [In considering this you shall be pious]. Only two words, “hunc” and “pius” are repeated in the epigram: “Esse pius cupis: HUNC saltem ADSPICE, qui fuit olim / Tu quod es, et, quod eris, mox erit ipse, cinis” [You wish to be pious: at least consider this: that was once / What you are, and, what you will be, soon it will itself be, ash]. “Pius esto” is replaced by “Esse pius cupis;” “intuens,” by “adspice.” The meaning of “hunc” in the motto is finally revealed in the epigram by the last word “cinis” [ash]. The suspense in its unveiling is skillfully maintained by Rollenhagen’s using a series of tenses, from perfect to present to future and back to future again. Two six-word mottoes are kept intact—one in the first verse and the other in the second verse—which may be a reminder that repeating them verbatim is still the normal pattern. In 2.23, the motto “IN SE SUA PER VESTIGIA VOLUITUR?’ is repeated in the middle of the first verse: “Sic in se, sua per vestigia, voluitur Annus,’ whereas in 2.53, the motto “QUOD NON ES NE VIDEARE CAVE,’ is repeated in the second verse: “Ar tu quod non es, ne videare cave.” In the meantime, motto splitting between the two verses continues apace. The lengthy motto “AD SCOPVM LICET AEGRE ET FRVSTRA in 1.19 is split in the following way: The first part itself is split between the beginning and the middle of the first verse, “Value SCOPUM donec, LICET AEGRE, attingere possis, but the second part stays together in the beginning of the second verse, “Et FRVSTRA, molem volue rev-

olue tamen The repeated use of the imperative “volue” [roll] seems to en-

courage Sisyphus to try and try again, never to give up. Is Rollenhagen being sarcastic? “Roll until you reach the goal, you might reach it; although it may be difficult and unsuccessful, roll your burden, and roll it yet again.” In contrast, George Wither (1.11) is less sanguine, “A Foole, in Folly taketh Paine,

/ Although he labour still in vaine.” In the same fashion, the motto “PRO ME SI MEREOR IN ME?’ is split and repeated in 2.87: “Hoc pro me pugna, sed si meruisse videbor, / In me. Sic ducibus, REX ait, ense dato” [Fight with him for me, but against me if I shall be seen to have deserved it: so speaks the king when he shall give the sword to his generals}. Again, Wither seems to disagree with the king’s sentiment when he paraphrases the motto this way: “Protect mee, if I worthy bee; / If I demerit, punish mee” (4.37).

As is to be expected, the longer seven- and eight-word mottoes follow the splitting pattern of the shorter five- and six-word variety. One example

EMBLEMATICA

Mason Tung

from each kind will conclude this survey. The motto in 2.33, “FVRES PRI-

me, established internally by ἃ detailed comparative study of τῆς iterations of the mottoes in the eleven emblems (1.07, 1.14, 1.16, 1.27, 1.33, 1.35, 1.59, 1.64, 1.70, 1.71, and 1.81) with those by Rollenhagen in Nucleus and its sequel. The subject of another study?

374

VATI IN NERVO PUBLICI IN AURO, is split this way: “PUBLICA qui

rapiunt FURES, vincla AUREA gestant, / Pro pudor, IN ΝΕΚΡῸ est qui BONA priva tulit” [Thieves who steal public goods wear gold fetters, / O shame! he who steals private goods is carried to prison]. By now, the reader will be able to see how the words are split, switched, and modified, and how the fragmented motto is smartly amplified by Rollenhagen. If he has any doubr, just look at the engraving. Similarly, “VIRTUTE AC STUDIO PER ORBEM

FAMA

PERPETUA

COMPARATUR,’

the only eight-

word motto, is repeated in 2.12 with modifications in the distich thus: “Virtus ac studium causa est, quod in orbe, per omne / Aevum, perpetuo gloria nostra viret” (Virtue with zeal is the reason our lasting glory flourishes in the world through all eternity]. The only difference between these two examples is that the first verse in the second distich runs on into the second verse, whereas the first distich has both verses end-stopped. The reason may be that the two kinds of thieves need a more clear-cut distinction, whereas the lasting glory or fame needs to go on forever. Different verse forms match different motivations. But the most interesting example is the bilingual tetrastich in 1.64 (Peil n 37, 275). The motto is in Italian: “COSI DE BEN AMAR

PORTO

TORMENTO), and it is repeated verbatim as the first verse of the first distich followed by the second Italian verse: “COsi DE BEN AMAR PORTO TORMENTO / Et mor’ogn’ hor! Lieto è, Contento.” Since all eleven emblems from Arcus Cupidinis (except 1.16, which has only a single distich) are written in tetrastichs, the author adds a Latin distich in the form of a commentary: “Musca velut sequitur flammam, ac se se iniicit igni / Sic ven-

eris télis laeta iuventa perit” [As fly follows flame and kills itself by fire / So happy youth perishes by Venus's dart]. According to Veldman, Rollenhagen had nothing to do with the epigrams from the Arcus: “De Passe produces the Arcus entirely independently of Rollenhagen and . .. one or the other of them later came up with the idea of making an emblem book in the same style” (115). The main reason for this was the “similarity of a few of the Latin expressions in the Arcus to distichs in earlier prints by De Passe, which have been signed by Johannes Bauman (Johannes Metzger) and Matthias Quad” (n. 20). This view has been reiterated in Veldman’s 2003 article coauthored with Klein (271, n. 13 and 14) but is challenged by Ari Wesseling (117). The true authorship of Arcus will have to be, it seems to

375

The real purpose of studying the iterations of mottoes is not just to

find out who is the real author or authors of a small collection of emblems but rather to appreciate the quality of the Latin poetry in the epigrams. This poetic appreciation should become a new subfield of emblematics by which scholars may reveal the poetic excellence of, among others, Alciato,

Junius, Rollenhagen, and Camerarius in order to determine how effective

poetic expressions enhance the persuasiveness of the emblematic discourses written in all different languages. The study of Rollenhagen’s iterations of mottoes is but a modest first step of basic research that should lead toward the more challenging larger enterprise. The fuels to ignite and sustain this research, however, are scholarly curiosity and interest from the whole emblematic community. APPENDIX A Survey of Rollenhagen’s Three- and Four-Word Motto Iteration Patterns

Some three-word mottoes are repeated and split between both lines of the distich. These are 1.49 (first word in the first verse and second and third

words in the second verse, otherwise unmodified); 1.90 (first word modified

in the middle of the first verse; second and third words switched and only one modified at the beginning of the second verse); 2.02 (second and third words switched near the middle of the first verse; first word modified in the beginning of the second verse); and 1.47 (first and third words split near the middle of the first verse; second word near the middle of the second verse).

One motto (1.58) is not repeated. For all other cases, see table 1. Similar considerations apply in the case of four-word mottoes, of which two are repeated and split between both verses of the distich. These are 1.79 (fourth word modified at or near the middle of the first verse; first,

second, and third words switched but unmodified at the beginning of the

second verse) and 2.99 (first and second words at the middle of the first verse but one word not repeated; third and fourth words unmodified at the

376

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Mason Tung

beginning of the second verse). Three four-word mottoes are not repeated:

Where Rpt.

1.72, 2.15, and 2.31. For all other cases, see table 2.

1.

1.09, 1.10, 1.11, 1.13, 1.15, 1.21, 1.22, 1.23, 1.24, 1.28, 1.31, 1.32,

1.38, 1.39, 1.42, 1.43, 1.46, 1.47, 1.49, 1.51, 1.52, 1.53, 1.58, 1.62,

?

1.66, 1.67, 1.68, 1.70, 1.76, 1.78, 1.80, 1.81, 1.82, 1.83, 1.85, 1.88,

2

1.90, 1.91, 1.92, 1.94, 1.95, 1.97, 1.100. 2.01, 2.02, 2.03, 2.06, 2.07, 2.08, 2.09, 2.10, 2.13, 2.14, 2.25, 2.26, 2.28, 2.29, 2.32, 2.39, 2.40, 2.43, 2.49, 2.51, 2.57, 2.60, 2.62, 2.63, 2.66, 2.67, 2.68, 2.72, 2.74,

= 3

2.75, 2.82, 2.84, 2.93, 2.96, 2.97, 2.98 (Total: 79).

AES

s

lg5/Unemod

ον

Ξ

y

5 =

ππιοα

3 y ἘΞ

thus supporting the proclamation of the gospel. Luther’s sense and appreciation of the more elaborate forms of the art of music (polyphony), also recorded in the Tischreden, are expressed in a

declaration towards the end of the Encomion, where he dwells with wonder

on the phenomenon of polyphony, which to him reflects divine wisdom: Hic tandem gustare cum stupore licet (sed non comprehendere)

absolutam et

perfectam sapientiam Dei in opere suo mirabili Musicae, in quo una et eadem

voce canitur suo tenore pergente, pluribus interim vocibus circum circa mir-

abiliter ludentibus, exultantibus et iucundissimis gestibus eandem ornantibus ,

12 Preface to the Wittenberg printer Georg Rhau’s collection of motets, Symphoniae iucundae atque adeo breves quatuor vocum, ab optimis quibusque musicis composi-

tae (Wittenberg,

1538; modern edition by H. Albrecht (Kassel,

1959); WA, L, pp.

364-374). For the text and its history, see also W. Blankenburg, ‘Uberlieferung und

Textgeschichte von Martin Luthers Encomion musices’, Luther-J ahrbuch 39 (1972),

pp. 80-104. Rhau’s collection comprises works by composers like Ludwig Senfl,

Heinrich Isaac, Pierre de la Rue, and Johann Walter.

3WA,L, p. 368. Unless otherwise indicated, translations are my own.

WA, L, p. 371.

Inde enim tot Cantica et Psalmi, in quibus simul agunt et sermo et vox in animo

auditoris, WA, L, p. 372.

55

et velut iuxta eam divinam quandam choream ducentibus, ut iis, qui saltem modice afficiunter, nihil mirabilius hoc seculo extare videatur."® At this point it is legitimate to taste with wonder (but not with comprehension)

the absolute and perfect wisdom of God in his admirable work, music, in which one and the same voice carries on, while more voices play around it in a wondrous way, jubilant, adorning it with delightful gestures, and as if performing a divine dance, so that those who are at least moderately affected do not find any-

thing in this world more miraculous.

When we come to examine the Lutheran tradition of the later sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, it is obvious that music was maintained as an impor-

tant issue, first and foremost on the practical level. But music also became

an important fopos in theological reflection after Luther’s death. An indication of this is Johannes Aurifaber’s (1519-1575) edition of Luther’s table

talks, the Tischreden oder Colloquia Lutheri of 1566.'’ As mentioned in the preface, these texts were structured according to the loci communes principle,'* that is, the editor collected the sayings of Luther under headings that referred to the main articles of Lutheran theology or confession.!? In a Protestant context the method was displayed at an early stage by Philip Mel-

anchthon (1497-1560) in his Loci communes rerum theologicarum (Basel, 1521, and later editions), a systematic exposition of Luther’s theology with

a focus on those principal concepts which, in particular, captured and sum-

marised

the concerns

of Reformation

theology.

This way

of composing

texts and books became popular during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries within both Protestant denominations, especially with regard to theological and moral issues. The /oci method with its headings or rubrics called attention to topics of common interest, or to viewpoints shared by a religious community, or maintained by authorities. In Aurifaber’s collection of

16 WA, L, pp. 372-373.

17 Tischreden oder Colloquia Doct. Mart. Luthers, so er in vielen Jaren gegen gelarten Leuten auch frembden Gesten und seinen Tischgesellen gefüret, nach den Heubtstiicken unserer christlichen Lere zusammengetragen (repr. Leipzig/Konstanz, 1967; WA, Tr (Tischreden), VI). The collection went through several later editions. 1 (...) von mir in gewisse Locos Communes distribuiret und verfasset, Vorrede, in:

WA, Tr, VI, p. XV. 19 See also E. H. Rehermann, ‘Die protestantischen Exempelsammlungen des 16. und 17. Jahrhunderts: Versuch eines Uberblicks und einer Charakterisierung nach

Aufbau

und Inhalt’, in: W.

Briickner, ed.,

Volkserzählung und Reformation:

ein

Handbuch zur Tradierung und Funktion von Erzählstoffen und Erzählliteratur im Protestantismus (Berlin, 1974), pp. 580-645.

56

SVEN RUNE HAVSTEEN

Luther sayings we find eighty headings, or loci communes, covering not

only the main sections of contemporary theological doctrine, such as, for

MUSIC AS A TOPOS

57

hymns, and, in accordance with Spangenberg’s homiletic project, the introductory text unfolds as a sermon with the heading Von Psalmen singen eine

instance, the sacraments (the Lord’s Supper and Baptism), the ceremonies, and the Mass, but also a number of other topics, among them one with the

Predigte (‘On the singing of hymns’). This choice of theme is in itself sig-

bric indicates that it was considered a topical field of significance in the religious forum of the Lutherans after Luther. This phenomenon is further documented by theological discussions and publications from the later part of the sixteenth century. The position of Martin Luther appears to have been a formative factor in the establishment of music as a fopos or locus in the domain of Protestant theology. The heritage of Luther was administered with different emphasis, and new aspects

point of departure not the Bible but a religious practice, particularly connected with the Lutherans. The approach could be characterised as a theological self-reflection, in which the confessional profile is underlined. This introductory sermon provides us with a number of significant statements. To give a few examples: as a first step, Spangenberg justifies the choice of Luther’s hymnal — rather than the Bible — as an object for interpretation, by referring to the biblical basis of the hymnal texts. In this

heading ‘On music’ (Von der Musica).”° The fact that music has its own ru-

were added. Nonetheless, the source material attests to some co-ordinates of permanence in the sixteenth- and seventeenth-century musico-theological

discourse that are in line with Luther’s basic assumptions and his attitude to music. These features come across not only through the recurrent Luther quotations, but also because of the prevalent thought pattern. Against this background, it seems fruitful to consider music in the light of the concept of commonplace. In this context commonplace refers not only to a particular topic, but also to the set of reflections related to it, that is its role as a store of viewpoints or arguments, and a variety of textual (including biblical)

nificant. Contrary to what might have been expected, given the background

of the Lutheran sola scriptura principle, the religious instruction has as its

way the scriptural principle is maintained, and consequently the hymns are

considered inspired texts, referred to as Meistergesenge of the Holy Ghost —

with Luther as the mouthpiece of the Spirit.”* Luther’s hymn texts are thus established as modernisations of the biblical text, at the same time as the

religious use of them is legitimised.

Another important reason for dealing with the hymns is the fact, pointed out in the text, that the hymnal summarises the whole Christian religion with all its articles of faith, thus constituting what Spangenberg calls

places,” pertinent to the discussions of the use of the art of music. Consid-

the ‘Der Leyen Loci Communes, Oder Heuptartickel Christlicher Lere’ (‘Loci Communes of laymen, or main articles of the Christian doctrine for

element of religious practice for the members of a confessional community.

exordium of the sermon, with reference to a classical musico-theological scriptural place, Colossians 3.16.7° From a doctrinal point of view, the

ered as a commonplace, music played a part in the profiling of Lutheran doctrine and practice. It outlined, for internal reasons, the significance of an

In that sense the discourse on music contributed to the demarcation of reli-

gious territory and can be considered a part of the construction of confessional identity, not only for internal, but certainly also for external reasons, in relation to rival religious communities, that is, in the historical context,

Calvinists and Roman Catholics.

In what follows, some examples will be given that may highlight the nature of the sixteenth- and seventeenth-century discourse on music from a Lutheran perspective. The first is taken from the sixteenth-century Lutheran theologian Cyriacus Spangenberg’s (1528-1604) voluminous work Cithara Lutheri from 1581.” The work is a collection of sermons on Luther’s

laymen’).

The importance of this approach was already signalled in the

hymnal is thus assigned an important pedagogical function in the propaga-

tion of the Lutheran understanding of Christianity. A third observation relates more directly to the musical dimension. Spangenberg underlines the fact that music facilitates the process of religious learning, publicly and privately, by way of supporting memory. What is learned is better preserved by way of singing, and he states, with reference to his own experience: das man alle mal das jenige so in Gesangweiss gefasset ehe lernet und lenger

behelt denn was man sonst redet un saget.””

20 WA, Tr, VI, p. 348.

3 Cithara Lutheri, p. *ij et sqq. (pagination is missing).

marks of her chapter in this volume (pp. 1-17). ? Cithara Lutheri: die Schônen, Christlichen Trostreichen Psalmen und Geistlichen Lieder, des Hochwirdigen Thewren Lehrers und Diener Gottes D. Martini Luthers (Erfurt, 1581).

5 Thidem. 26 “Lieben Brueder, leret und vermanet euch selbs mit Psalmen, Lobgesengen und Geistlichen lieblichen Liedern, un singet dem Herrn in ewren hertzen’, /dem, p. * ij.

*! This understanding is close to the one put forward by Ann Moss in the initial re-

# Idem, p. *iij.

77 Idem, p. * iij.

58

SVEN RUNE HAVSTEEN that you always learn and keep longer in mind that which is expressed through singing, than that which you speak and talk about.

To this statement is added, among other things, a basic theological remark on the necessary relation between faith and singing. In fact, the observation

is made in the form of a hidden quotation from Luther’s preface to the so-

called Babst hymnal:

Gott hat unser Hertz undt Muth fròlich gemacht durch seinen lieben Sohn, wel-

chen er für uns gegeben hat zur Erlôsung von Siinden, Todt und Teufel. Wer solches mit ernst gleubet, der kans nicht lassen; er muf frélich und mit Lust davon singen und sagen, das es andere auch héren und herzu kommen. Wer aber nicht davon singen und sagen will, das ist ein zeichen, das ers nicht gleubt und nicht ins newe fréliche Testament, Sondern unter das alte faule unlustige

Testament gehôret.

For God has cheered our hearts and minds through his dear son, whom he gave for us to redeem us from sin, death, and the devil. He who believes this ear-

nestly cannot be quiet about it. But he must gladly and willingly sing and speak about it, so that others may also come and hear it. And whoever does not want

to sing and speak of it shows that he does not believe, and that he does not belong under the new and joyful testament, but under the old, lazy, and tedious testament.

From this Lutheran perspective, faith is singled out as a phenomenon that requires an audible, sonorous expression of the joy evoked by the proclamation of the gospel. As a consequence, music represents an important dimension and an indispensable expression of faith. To strengthen the argument, Lutheran hymn singing is further presented by Spangenberg as a continuation of true Christian worship, represented by biblical as well as later his-

torical figures.” Luther and Lutheranism are thus authorised, so to speak,.

by a large-scale historical reference. Spangenberg’s reflections on hymn singing point to a strong and conscious commitment to basic elements in the heritage of Luther. First and foremost, attention is directed to the aspect of proclamation in relation to the practice of singing, and, closely connected to this, its pedagogical value. But Spangenberg also includes the experiential view that holds music to be °8 Idem, p. vi (cf. WA, XXXV, p. 477), transl. in Luther's Works, LIL, p. 333. The so-called Babst hymnal, Geystliche Lieder mit einer newen vorrhede D. Mart. Luth.

(Leipzig, 1545; repr. Kassel, 1929) was published by the printer Valentin Babst. 29 Cithara Lutheri, p. *v.

MUSIC AS A TOPOS

59

a basic medium of the expression of the affective side of faith, making, so to speak, music and faith correlative phenomena. With these lines of thought a common frame of reference is indicated that not only represents a continuation of traditional Lutheran views, but was also to be repeated by later generations of theological writers, thus contributing to the specification of the Lutheran confessional tradition.*” Controversy was an important feature of sixteenth-century theological debate, and, unsurprisingly, this also affected musico-theological discussions. This means that the attitude towards music, or the uses of music, became

more explicitly a touchstone in determining confessional ous that the discourse in question reveals a dependence belong to an already established frame of thought, but it certain aspects of the considerations were accentuated.

identity. It is obvion viewpoints that is also notable that This comes to the

fore in the last third of the sixteenth century in discussions of controversy

between Lutheran and Calvinist theologians, such as the so-called Montbé-

liard colloquy of 1586 involving, first and foremost, Jacob Andreae (15281590), Lutheran professor of theology at the University of Tübingen, and Théodore de Béze (1519-1609), the leading theological figure of the Calvin-

ists. The meeting was arranged in order to pave the way for a theological rapprochement between Lutherans and the reformed, and, in the first place, because

of the situation at the local level, the county of Montbéliard,*'

where the two religious denominations were confronting each other. But the

initiative was also related to the religious wars in France, as well as the in-

ternational political situation, where the need for a compromise that could unite the Protestant parties in Europe against the Roman Catholics was

manifest.” The main issues dealt with at the colloquy were the key ques-

tions of dogma, such as the Lord’s Supper, but other topics were taken up, such as Christology, baptism, the use of images and music in the churches, and, finally, predestination. The proceedings of the colloquy, later pub-

lished,** clearly record the differences of opinion among the two patties, thus outlining, at the same time, their confessional identities. This may also

by 30 Tt should be noted that the topic of music was further developed and deepened

Spangenberg in Von der edlen unnd hochberuembten Kunst der Musica, unnd deren Ankunfft, Lob, Nutz, unnd Wirkung, auch wie die Meistersenger auffkhommenn vollkommener Bericht (Strasbourg, 1598; repr. Hildesheim, 1966). 31 The county belonged to the Lutheran duchy of Wiirttemberg. 32 See J. Raitt, The Colloquy of Montbéliard: Religion and Politics in the Sixteenth

ἢ Century (New York/Oxford, 1993). Colloquii acta Ad 1587); (Tübingen, sis Belligarten 33 See Acta Colloquii Montis Montisbelgardensis (...) Theodori Bezae responsio (Geneva, 1588).

60

SVEN RUNE HAVSTEEN

MUSIC AS A TOPOS

be observed in relation to music, although the divergence at this point was

less pronounced, and some agreement after all was achieved in this matter.** An important question in the discussion of music in this context was the status of instrumental music, including organ music, in liturgy. The topic, together with that of images, was taken up by the Lutheran party and involved two main issues, put forward in thesis form:*° the question of whether organ music is prohibited by God, and thus to be eliminated from the churches (thesis IV), and the claim that instrumental music, on the basis of the word of God, is not disapproved of, but commended by the Holy Ghost (thesis VIII).** It should be noted, however, that vocal music was also

put on the agenda during the discussion. These theses elicited a negative response from the reformed faction. This was to be expected when viewed in the light of various negative manifestations on the part of the reformed churches, such as the occurrence of violent incidents where organs had been destroyed, as mentioned later in the discussion. The colloquy revealed, however, that Théodore de Béze did not

adhere to an altogether negative attitude towards music. Thus he recognised the power of music to move the soul of man, and he assigned a prominent

role to it in connection with the praise of God.*” While maintaining this position, he also called attention to the dangers of misuse; as when musical

instruments, including the organ, were used to play immoral tunes. And he took up a critical stance — in line with Calvin — towards instrumental music. To this he added vocal polyphony, because it implied a transfer of attention from the word of God, considered to be the focal point of Protestant liturgy, to the sound itself, thus giving way to a reprehensible cultivation of the pleasures of the ear: Et quod ad organa Musica attinet: Musicen minime damnamus:

sed ubi can-

tatur harmonice, quod mente non intelligitur, res ipsa ostendit, quid inde con-

# The colloquy’s relation to music is discussed in J. L. Irwin, Neither Voice nor Heart Alone: German Lutheran Theology of Music in the Age of the Baroque (New York, 1993), pp. 13-15. See also Raitt, The Colloquy, pp. 136-137, for a short comment on this part of the discussion.

°° The heading of this section of the colloquy indicates that the subject of the theses

to be taken up is de Templis Papisticis, de Imaginibus, Organis Musicis in templo, Acta Colloquii, pp. 389-423; Ad acta Colloquii, pp. 17-37. °° Quorum Musica instrumentalis in templo a Spiritu sancto non reprehensa, sed commendata fuit, Acta Colloquii, p. 391. The claim is based on scriptural testimony drawn from Psalm 150.3: Laudate Dominum in chordis et organo, as well as with reference to the example of Old Testament kings (David, etc.), who accepted instrumental music in the cult.

37 Acta Colloquii, p. 410.

61

sequatur, nempe ut paulatim magna pars cultus Dei in cantiunculas mutetetur, et non Dei verbo mentes pascantur, sed inanis sonis aures mulceantur.*® As far as organ music is concerned, we do not at all condemn the music; but

when you sing together with more voices something that the mind does not understand, it is obvious what follows: that gradually the greater part of the service is transformed into songs, and the mind is not nourished by the word of God, but the ears are entertained with vain sounds. Quando

autem

Organo

aut alii instrumentis Musicis in Ecclesia luditur, aut

variis vocibus canitur, ut a populo non intelligatur; ibi sonus tantum in auribus

retinetur, et de sono magis cogitatur, quam de rebus, quae canuntur.” But when the organ or other musical instruments are played, or when singing with different voices takes place in the Church, so that it is not understood by the people, then the sound is retained merely in the ears, and you think more of

the sound than of the things that are sung. The reformed position was characterised by a rational mode of thinking

that made intelligibility in liturgy a crucial point. For this reason de Bèze accepted only a musical practice that facilitated the access of the mind or soul to the meaning of that which was mediated through music. This claim was met, according to de Béze, by vocal singing in unison and implied the omission of musical instruments, a practice that he considered to be a continuation of ancient Christian tradition.“ In addition to these clarifications, and most likely in order to show a conciliatory stance, he pointed at the end

to the adiaphoratic*! status of music, implying that music could be used or omitted — without offending God.”

38 Idem, p. 394. Idem, p. 410.

‘0 Et si igitur Musices usum rectum, et praesertim concinendis uti decet Dei laudibus accomodatum, minime damnamus. Illam tamen symphoniacum Musicen, sive voci adiungantur instrumenta, sive minus, (...) sapienter existimo fecisse, qui in Ec-

clesiis aboleverunt, et, sola vocis gravi, pia et et religiosa cantione contenti, illam ex caetibus publicis eliminarunt. Veteres certe Christiani in suis kryptois ante lucanos

hymnos, teste Plinio secundo, cecenerunt, lingua nimirum et Musica ab omnibus intellecta (...), Ad acta, p. 37. The singing of the Psalter is considered an instance of proper liturgical singing, Acta Colloquii, p. 410. ' The concept of adiaphoron, introduced in the Protestant context by Melanchthon,

referred in Lutheran theology primarily to phenomena belonging to the liturgical sphere that were considered indifferent in relation to salvation, 1.6. external ceremo-

nial traditions that were not under divine command or prohibition, but instituted by man, and thus a matter of freedom. In article 10 of the Formula Concordiae (1577),

62

SVEN RUNE HAVSTEEN

The contribution of the Lutheran theologian Jacob Andreae to the dis-

cussion manifested a somewhat different attitude towards music. He did not share the critical stance of his reformed counterpart in relation to the liturgical use of polyphonic music; on the contrary, he underlined his positive opinion with the statement that this category of music should be considered a ‘unique gift of God’, and was, for this reason, definitely to be used in lit-

urgy.*

And, in line with this, he also called attention to the capacity of

polyphonic music to evoke a feeling of devotion and bring about ἃ due veneration of God.“ This understanding of music was elaborated further by Andreae. In the first place, he made a social distinction by observing that the intelligibility of the musicalised text was not necessarily eliminated by

the music in question, but that this was dependent on the level of education

enjoyed by the listener:

Respondeo res ipsas, quae figurali Musica canuntur, non omnibus ignotas, sed eruditis, et qui latiné, aut ipsam Musicam didicerunt, bené notas esse, quibus etiam in illa harmonia afficiuntur.*

I respond that the things that the musica figuralis is concerned with are not un-

known to all, but well known to the educated, who have learned Latin or even

music, and those things will also affect them in addition to the harmony.

To this he added a note, based on his personal experience of the power or positive effects of polyphonic music and its divine origin. In this passage Andreae underlined the devotional value of music. In the context of liturgy, so he claimed, polyphonic and instrumental music, through the display of harmony, contributed to a devotional intensification, from which liturgical

elements such as prayers and sermons could profit:

MUSIC AS A TOPOS Et de meipso

sancta

affirmare possum,

ut qui Musica figurali,

63 et organo

plurimüm delector, non modo aures sonum percipere, sed animum quoque harmonia illa affici mirificè, et vel ad preces, vel ad concion es ardentiore spiritu habendas vel audiendas excitari, quando suaviss imä harmonia canticum

Ecclesiasticum vel organo luditur, aut à cantoribus, priusquam concionator

suggestum conscendat, recepta consuetudine, cantari solet: adeoque vim illam

divinitus harmoniae inditam, in meipso efficaciter sentire affirmo, de qua ab initio dixisti, quod Musicae figurali insit. Idem quoque a multis aliis piis viris,

etiam Laicis, artis Musice ignaris audivi, quod similiter in seipsis experian-

tur.“

And since I have great delight in musica Jiguralis and instrumental music, I can for my own part solemnly confirm that not only do the ears perceive the sound, but the mind is also wonderfully affected by the harmony that is displayed, and it is incited to pray or listen to prayers or sermons with greater enthusiasm

when a church song with the sweetest harmony is played on an organ, or, according to usual practice, is sung by the singers, before the preacher ascends

the pulpit. Certainly, I can confirm that I perceptibly feel in myself that it is by God’s hand that this power has been connected to this harmony, which, accord-

ing to your statement at the beginning, belongs to musica figuralis. Many other pious men, also laymen without knowledge of music, have told me that they experience the same.

It appears that the power of music to which Andreae refers is inherent in music itself. This idea was further substantiated by way of historical proof. With a biblical reference to the history of David, who with his cithara drove

away the evil spirit of Saul,*’ Andreae pointed out that Saul was cured solely by instrumental music, and this because the music itself was capable

of affecting not only his aural senses, but also his mind.“ This view implied

the question of the adiaphora was discussed, but the subject (though not the term) was taken up already in the Confessio Augustana (1530), for instance in article XV.

See Die Bekenntnisschriften der evangelisch-lutherischen Kirche, herausgegeben im Gedenkjahr der Augsburgischen Konfession 1930 (Géttingen, 1976), pp. 1053-1063 and 69-70.

“? Acta Colloquii, pp. 410-411. At this point the reference is explicitl y to instrumental

music, but in the context it also applies to polyphonic vocal music, discussed immediately before. Harmonica musica singulare Dei donum est: cuius Praecipuus usus ad cultum Dei destinatus esse debet, sicut exempla piorum Regum docent, Acta Colloquii, p. 394 (marginal note 1). Immo maxime mentes piorum ad pietatem, et devote Deo cultum debitum praestandum excitantur, idem, p. 394 (marginal note m).

‘ Acta Colloquii, p. 411.

=

that music as such, independently of its relationship with texts, far from disturbing liturgical practice, is able, on the contrary, to establish a significant religious communication with the personal centre of man, and in this way it contributes to a proper celebration of liturgy. However, according to Andreae, the experience of musical harmony would only be intensified by an

understanding of that which was mediated through the music: Non

igitur contemnenda

‘ Idem, p. 411. 47 1 Samuel 16.

‘$ Acta Colloquii, pp. 411-412.

.

vis est harmoniae Musicae figuralis, quae spiritum

Domini malum represit; quae ad animit usque, etiamsi, quod luditur aut cani-

MUSIC AS A TOPOS

SVEN RUNE HAVSTEEN

64

tur, non ab omnibus intelligatur, penetrat. Quam vim multò maiorem in se ex-

periuntur et sentient, qui und cum harmonia res quoque sacras, quae canuntur,

intelligent.” One should not hold in contempt the which overcame the evil spirit of the all do not understand what is played derstand the sacred things the music power as much greater.

power of harmony of the musica figuralis, Lord. It penetrates the mind, even though or sung. And those who, in addition, unis about will experience and perceive this

From this perspective, music was considered something essentially good that was to remain integrated in Christian worship, and misuse did not, according to Andreae, and contrary to de Béze, change its status. In spite of the divergences between the Lutheran and the reformed party, Andreae, towards the end of the discussion, could agree with his counterpart that music belonged to the category of adiaphoron: Sed consensus inter nos est: sua natura adiaphoron esse, in templis organa Musica habere, aut his carere. Quod in cuiusque Ecclesiae arbitrio est posi50 tum. But there is agreement between us that its nature is adiaphoron, and the organ may be kept, or dispensed with in the churches. Each church is free to decide.

But, even at this point, the colloquy exposed differences of opinion. The

Lutheran standpoint was characterised by formulations that were not quite

consistent with an interpretation of music as adiaphoratic. Thus Andreae stated, among other things, that music was egregia templorum ornamenta: modo illis ad celebrationem numinis divini utamur’' (‘an excellent ornament of the Church, if only we use it for the praise of the divine majesty’), and, further, with reference to Psalm 150, that it was non modo non prohibi-

tum, sed expresse mandatum, Psalmo

clearly commanded’).

imply that music was covered by a divine command and was thus a neces-

sity in Christian worship. This would mean that leaving out, say, instrumental music in the liturgy, as he was inclined to do, would be reprehensible, a

52 Idem, p. 412.

view he found unacceptable. Nor was he convinced by the scriptural basis of the Lutheran stance, since it dealt with the ceremonial law, relating to the Old Testament cult which to him had no normative status in the Christian Church. Andreae agreed that instrumental music was under no special command, but at the same time he maintained that it was not only covered

by a general command, established out of devotion, ° but also that it was approved by God, referring to the evidence of the Psalms.* With regard to vocal music, he similarly called attention to the human voice as ‘a most exomee gift? that — through singing — should participate in the praise of God. When it comes to the topic of music, the colloquy of Montbéliard exhibits quite different theological profiles, in spite of the declared agreement at the end. Even if the Calvinist position was presented in a moderate, conciliatory form, it was, after all, characterised by a restrictive and rational

attitude to the liturgical use of the art of music. The Lutheran view was elaborated in another direction. The positive appraisal of music in its various forms is unmistakable during the discussion. In distinction to the Calvinist attitude, it testifies to the high status of this art within Lutheran liturgical and devotional practice, and reflects a notable openness to the sensuous mediation of spiritual matters.

Another sixteenth-century discussion of controversy worthy of mention was

raised by German Calvinists in Anhalt in 1596.°° Various elements of Lu-

theran liturgical practice, such as the use of images, were attacked because of their alleged theological illegitimacy and incompatibility with the pure proclamation of the word of God, which was the fundamental concern of the reformed churches. In this context music was also the object of criti-

cism. The objections were raised specifically against the use of musical insongs, struments, and — on the basis of the criteria of intelligibility — of people texts, which, for musico-artistic reasons or owing to their Latin

could not understand. This critical position gave rise to a number of replies

150 (‘not only not prohibited, but

De Béze was justified in making clear that this formulation appeared to

“° Idem, p. 412. 50 Idem, p. 443. 5! Idem, p. 412.

65

ut instrumen°3 Reges veteris Testamenti (...) non speciale mandatum habuisse, hoc ex genfecerunt pietate ipsorum pro sed templo, in ent instituer talem Musicam erali illo in Thesi nostra positum est, Acta Colloquii, p. 422.

°4 Idem, p. 423.

dona Dei numeretur, °° Cum igitur vox humana et articulate inter praestantissima inferiores hac in avibus ne debet, dirigi Deum ideo et ipsa etiam ad laudandum celebrant, idem, perpetuo DEVM cantu suo mo suavissi quae parte censeamur, . 423. to music, see J. L. Irwin, fe For a discussion of the Anhalt controversy in relation 15-17. pp. Alone, Voice nor Heart Neither

SVEN RUNE HAVSTEEN

from Lutherans,*’ among them one from the Faculty of Theolog y of Wittenberg University, which was published in 1597.°® In this contribu tion the

Wittenberg theologians dealt with, among

other things, the question of mu-

sic. Their defence of music introduced viewpoints that were also present in

the Montbéliard colloquy. On the one hand, it was categorised as adiaPhoron in contradistinction to the reformed position in Anhalt. On the other hand, the status of music in liturgy was given a notably positive assessme nt. Further, on the basis of scriptural testimony, for instance Psalm 150, it was

maintained that the use of musical instruments was in accordance with reli-

gious ceremonial tradition in ancient Israel. Even if this Old Testamen t tradition were not assigned a normative status, it was after all consider ed in-

dicative of the value of this type of music by the Lutherans. This interpret a-

tion was further elaborated with the idea of music as ‘a gift of God’, a des-

ignation that was related to the affective power of instrumental music, also

present when this type of music was separated from vocal music.” This quality was related to, for instance, the apotropaic function of music, with

reference to 1 Samuel 16 (the story of the evil spirit of Saul), but, in particular, to its capability of evoking ‘devotion’ (Andacht). As to the reformed

claim for intelligibility in liturgy — with reference to 1 Corinthi ans 14 — the sine qua non in reformed devotional practice, the Lutheran s argued that the understanding of instrumental music (organ music) was secured, when the

genre (genus) of the performed music was clearly established:

Wenn man nur das genus weiss, so ist es (soviel die Orgeln belanget) gnug und wird damit nicht in wind hinein georgelt. Das genus aber ist, das man weiss, es

werden geistliche Lieder, die zu Gottes lob gemachet sind, darauff geschlagen. Wer das weiss, der ergert sich nicht an den Orgeln, welche sonsten eben wol ihre krafft hat Menschliche hertzen zu bewegen, als die Posaune ire kraft hat,

wenn man nur Soviel weis, das durch derselben schal entweder zum streit ge-

blasen wird (...) oder andre wichtige ding angezeigt.

When you only know the genus, then this is sufficient (as far as the organs are

concerned), and consequently the playing of the organ is not merely bringing

the air into motion. Being aware of the genus means that you know that the 37 See, for instance, Erinnerungsschrifft etlicher vom Adel und Staedten an den Durchleuchtigen Hochgebornen Fiirsten unnd Herrn Johann Georgen Fiirsten zu Anhalt (...) Sampt darauff erfolgten gnediger Verant wortung und erklärung (Zerbst, 1596), pp. 73-76 (on music). % Notwendige Antwort auff die im Fiirstenthumb Anhalt ohn langsten ausgesprengste hefftige Schrifft (Wittenberg, 1597), Notwendige Antwort, p. 71. 6 Idem, p. 71.

MUSIC AS A TOPOS

67

songs which are played are spiritual, made for the praise of God. He who knows that does not become indignant at the organs that have their power to move human hearts in the same way as the trombone, where you only know as

much as that it is through the sound that either combat or other important things

are indicated.

In line with this approach, vocal music accompanied by instruments was accepted, even if it implied that people did not understand what was sung. This practice was considered appropriate in a liturgical context, since Scripture testified to the recognition of its use in the liturgical ceremonies of the

temple of Israel. The Lutherans did not find scriptural evidence, as did their

reformed counterparts, for the assertion that liturgical singing in the temple, accompanied by a wide register of instruments, was intelligible.°!

These theological disputes not only indicate the conflicting attitudes of the two Protestant denominations with respect to music, but feature at the same

time the topical area of music as they mark thematic compartments pointing

to recurrent views and perspectives. The Lutheran context is illustrated by ἃ positive appraisal of music that constitutes a basic premise of their musico-

theological reflections, in contradistinction to the much more restricted po-

sition of the Calvinists.

Although not quite consistent with the proposed

adiaphoratic interpretation, this elaboration of the topic of music, with the

implied idea of music as a central vehicle of communication between God

and Man, was to a large extent in conformity with Martin Luther’s own

views, and was maintained in later historical contexts.

In seventeenth-century Lutheran thought,” the topic of music had become consolidated in the intellectual landscape. The Lutheran musico-theological reflections of this period show a number of common features with regard to the division of the subject, viewpoints, and source references, which point to a continuation of the commonplace structure of the considerations on

music discussed above. Basic elements of sixteenth-century discourse were

taken over, but, at the same time, changing religious, intellectual, and political contexts gave occasion for different accentuations, articulations, and additions. The discussion was determined by the application of accumulated οἱ Idem, p. 72.

? See, for instance, C. Bunners, Kirchenmusik und Seelenmusik: Studien zu ΕἸ rémmigkeit und Musik im Luthertum des 17. Jahrhunderts (Gottingen, 1966); Irwin, Neither Voice nor Heart Alone; see also S. R. Havsteen, ‘Aspects of Musical

Thought in the Seventeenth-Century Lutheran Tradition’, in: E. Ostrem, J. Fleisher

and N. H. Petersen, eds, The Arts and the Cultural Heritage of Martin Luther (Copenhagen, 2003), pp. 151-169.

EEE

66

68

SVEN RUNE HAVSTEEN

or transmitted mainstream viewpoints and opinions, implyin g a shared set

of coordinates within the topical field. From this perspective, one may say that such topical thinking contributed to, or was a part of, the process of cultural reception as well as of that construction and maintenance of tradition which was a principal constituent in the theological responses to current is-

sues. This approach displays an awareness of confessional identity, which

pertains not only to the internal theological clarification of doctrine and practice, but also to the external theological demarcation in relation to other religious communities. The source material covers a variety of literary forms, such as, for instance, prefaces to collections of musical compositions

and hymnals, sermons, tracts, and exegetical works, and constitutes convincing evidence of the common nature and structure of the discourse in question.

Seventeenth-century discussions of music may be approa ched from a num-

ber of directions. A good example of a mainstream theolog ical account of music from this period is offered in the reflections of the Luther an theologian and Superintendent from Liineburg (Northern German y), Christopher

Frick (1577-1640), in his book Music-Biichlein (1631) , based on two or-

gan sermons delivered at the inauguration of new church organs. An impor-

tant feature of Frick’s considerations, shared by other writers on the subject, is his dependence on the rhetorical genre of argumentatio n, whose aim was

the praise of the res in focus of the discourse, i.e. the /audatio or encomium.™ This strategy of communication, labelled the genus demonstrativum in classical rhetoric, was an important part of the seventeenth-century rhe-

torical system, and instructions concerning how to organis e it were as a rule displayed in the textbooks on this subject. It embraced a particular set of fopoi or questions to be considered. These points of focus are, for instance,

MUSIC AS A TOPOS

69

To this positive approach is added another topos that relates to the question of the despisers and abusers of music, a heading that points, among

other things, to the confessional controversy with the Calvinists. It is a notable and recurrent element of seventeenth-century Lutheran discourse to

point out the Calvinists’ hostile attitude towards music, with reference to the disputes of the sixteenth century, including references to the abovementioned historical incidents of violent excesses that were claimed to have

caused the destruction of organs. Against this background, the Lutheran defence of music presents itself emphatically as a statement of confessional

identity. Lutherans are categorised as cultivators of music, contrary to their

Protestant counterparts. This is clearly the message conveyed by Frick, who outlines the critical stance of the Calvinists, without any sense of the more

subtle differences, against the background of statements from, for instance,

the Montbéliard colloquy and the Anhalt theologians mentioned above.

Frick’s defence of music does not need to be elaborated in detail in this

context. Suffice it to make some general observations concerning the conti-

nuities of the musico-theological discourse. On the one hand, the presence

of central elements of the sixteenth-century discourse on music is immediately obvious. Thus, for instance, in parallel with a considerable number of

contemporary Lutheran theological writings on the subject, Frick repeats

Luther’s basic dictum concerning music as a divine gift. From the rhetorical point of view, the introduction of this idea is a development of the abovementioned topos of honestas, which demands an account of the ‘age’ (antiquitas) and the noble ‘origin’ (origo), in addition to the honourable ‘inventors’ (inventores) of music, in order to establish the pre-eminence of this art. Concordant with more general tendencies in seventeenth-century metaphys-

ico-theological

thought,

this

theme

is

developed

within

an

all-

encompassing, cosmic view. Music was in this perspective interpreted as ἃ

honestas, utilitas, and, closely related to these, the necessity of the object or phenomenon chosen for presentation. In the account of music given by

phenomenon that, from the very beginning of creation, had been established through divine initiative as a fundamental harmonious structure of being

for instance, the question of the origin and of the inventors of music belongs to the topos of honourableness, and the theme of the various effects of mu-

man, and the natural. Its sonorous realization was considered a reflection of

Christopher Frick, these questions are integrated into the exposition. Thus,

sic as well as the question of the purpose of musical practice within the Christian order of life refer to the topos of utility.

that characterises the various hierarchies of reality, the heavenly, the hu-

this all-comprising world harmony.°°

°3 Music-Biichlein, pp. 30-33.

°° The cosmic view of music is a heritage of antique philosophical (pythagorean and platonic) speculation that was recontextualised in Christian thought through the

‘3 Music-Büchlein, oder Nützlicher Bericht von dem Uhrspru nge, Gebrauche und Erhaltung Christlicher Music (Lüneburg, 1631; repr. Leipzig , 1976).

* On this subject, see, for instance, J. Dyck, Athen und Jerusalem: die Tradition der argumentativen Verkniipfung von Bibel und Poesie im 17. und 18. Jahrhundert (Munich, 1977), pp. 13-23.

Middle Ages, with Boethius as an early key figure. On the idea of world harmony, see, for instance, L. Spitzer, ‘Classical and Christian Ideas of World Harmony: Pro-

legomena to an Interpretation of the Word “Stimmung”’, in: Traditio 2 (1944), pp. 409-464; 3 (1945), pp. 307-364; R. Dammann, Der Musikbegriff im deutschen Barock (Laaber, *1995), pp. 23-92; S. K. Heninger, Touches of Sweet Harmony: Pythagorean Cosmology and Renaissance Poetics (San Marino, CA, 1974).

70

SVEN RUNE HAVSTEEN

MUSIC AS A TOPOS

Closely related to this line of thought, Frick also associates his understanding of the divine quality of music with the notion of the angelic or

heavenly music.*’ The idea, rooted in the Bible and later integrated into the

medieval discourse on music, was also taken up in the Lutheran contex t,

and emphasised in particular in the seventeenth century. The applica tion of it was an indication not only of the transcendental or eschatological dimension of music, but also of its divine origin. Within this theolog ical framework, the performance of music was regarded as an activity pointing to the eternal life, in the theological imagination characterised by a never-ending

musical liturgy. This meant that music was viewed as an anticipation, al-

though in a fragmentary and imperfect form, of the divinel y instituted tran-

scendental music. Considered a praegustus vitae aeterna e (‘a foretaste of

the eternal life’), music was assigned an important function on the practical

level in the preparation of man for the life to come, a point that contributes

to its recognition as a significant devotional instrument in the Lutheran

praxis pietatis.

The utilitas of music comes across in the idea of the apotrop aic function of music, paradigmatically represented with reference to 1 Samuel 16.”° In Frick, however, this function is closely connected with the conception of music as a vehicle for the devotional practice and experie nce of man. In line

with the sixteenth-century discussion,

the devotional

role of music

is con-

sidered central, and it is touched upon in various ways in Frick’s account, but it is here developed in a more extensive way. As was the case in the

Spangenberg text discussed above, it is stated that music contributes to the maintenance of faith and serves the propagation of the true doctrine. The

function of music or singing in this respect is, according to Frick, based on

°7 Music-Biichlein, pp. 107-123, 297-340.

% The idea of the angelic music is present in Luther’s writings, and it is thematised in Johann Walter’s music poems, Lob und Preis der lôblich en Kunst Musica (1538)

and Lob und Preis der himmlischen Kunst Musica (1564), in: J. Walter, Samtliche Werke, ed. O. Schrüder, VI (Kassel, 1953), pp. 153-156, 157-161. For the history of

the idea, see R. Hammerstein, Die Musik der Engel: Unters uchungen zur Musikanschauu

ng des Mittelalters (Bern, 71990); R. Dammann, Der Musikbe griff, pp.

444456. # Apart from musico-theological writings, the idea of the angelic or heavenly music

was also represented in hymnal illustrations and on the front pages of music

collections; see, for instance, Michael Praetorius (15711621), Musae Sioniae (1607), in: Gesamtausgabe der musikalischen Werke von M. Praetorius, ed. F Blume and H.

Kéltzsch, V (Wolfenbiittel/Berlin, 1937), reproduction l Music-Biichlein, pp. 75-78. The text is a quotation and hymn writer Paul Eber’s (151 1-1569) preface to a Herman. The whole text is presented in an appendix to 343), thus underlining the significance of the stateme nt

of the frontispiece. from the Lutheran theologian hymn collection by Nikolaus the Music-Biichlein (pp. 341on the value of music.

71

its ability to impress the proclamation of the gospel into the human mind,

the central word being the German verb einbilden:

Aus der Vbung Christlicher aus Gottes Worte genommener Gesänge erfolget dieser Nutz, daB der Mensch solches Wort mit den Gesingen bey sich behält,

da er allein ist, neben anderer Arbeit davon singet und also ihm das Wort Gottes tieffer einbildet und von tage zu tage solchem Worte besser nachdenket.”!

From the exercise of Christian songs, based on the words of God, follows the

profitable effect that man keeps such a word with him together with the songs,

when he is alone, in addition to other tasks, sings about it, and thus impresses the word of God more deeply in him, and day by day makes progress in the meditation on such word.

This quality points to the pedagogical and edifying dimension of music, and

is explicitly related to the Lutheran practice of hymn singing, and to the crucial role that Luther’s hymns have allegedly played in the dissemination

of the word of God, in spite of, so Frick claims, the tyranny of the pope.” The idea of music as a necessary sensuous expression of the experience

of faith is also present in the seventeenth-century discussion, which includes

echoes of Luther’s passage on the sonorous expression of the joy of faith

from the preface to the Babst hymnal quoted above.” But now the idea has become more elaborate and is connected with an impressive metaphor em-

phasising the anthropological dimension of religious experience. The physi-

cal being of man is depicted as an organ. This instrument represents the

concordance of all the parts of his body and mirrors the presence of the spirit and the state of peace which Christ has established through the Re-

demption.”* In this conception music or singing is made a basic manifesta-

tion of the meaning of Lutheran religious practice, implying a special affec-

tive tonality that chimes in with the joy associated with the appropriation of

the gospel message.

rom

The basically positive appraisal of music that comes to the fore in this seventeenth-century account is further signalled by the indication — in line

with Jacob Andreae’s stance — that, as an integral part of the praise of God,

music is covered by a Gottes Mandat (‘divine command’) with reference to

sections from the Psalms of David.” Now, this understanding, repeated by

" Idem, p. 185.

” Idem, pp. 184-185.

7 Idem, p. 60. ™ Idem, pp. 58-59. ” Idem, pp. 6-7.

72

SVEN RUNE HAVSTEEN

MUSIC AS A TOPOS

many contemporary contributors to the discussion, seems, on the one hand, to be irreconcilable with the interpretation of music as adiaphoratic, main-

put forward by Cunrad Dieterich (1575-1639), Superintendent in Ulm, in his Kirchweyh- oder Gesang-Predigt.” Alluding to statements by Lutheran

to a legalistic view of musical practice contrary to basic assumptions in Luther’s theological thinking. The tension in the Lutheran position between the pronounced positive attitude towards music and the adiaphoratic interpretation encountered already in Andreae’s considerations is definitely also

however, he points out its value within liturgy.” In support of this assessment, he refers to the ‘openly displayed beauty’ associated with the per-

tained by Lutherans into the seventeenth century; on the other hand, to point

present in the seventeenth-century debate but, in Frick’s case, and in conse-

quence, so to speak, of the markedly affirmative attitude to music within the

Lutheran tradition, this tension is dissolved in favour of the establishment of music as a necessary institution within Christian worship, which discards

the adiaphoratic theme altogether. The legalistic view implied in the reference to a divine command in relation to the religious practice of music is at the same time contradicted by the statement that musical praise is motivated by the redemptive act of God in Christ. In this way, the idea of the necessity of music is to be viewed in the light of the proclamation of the gospel, and within Lutheran religious practice the law is thus transformed into a guide to the articulation of the experience of faith. If this interpretation is correct, it throws new light on the basic Lutheran assumption of a close theological

relation between the experience of faith and musical practice.

Frick does not explicitly address the question of the intelligibility of what is presented in musical performances in liturgy. But he assigns a noteworthy importance to the function of music in connection with the proclamation of the word of God. This issue, which appears already in sixteenth-century discourse, was also taken up by other seventeenth-century theological writers. The discussion of this subject reveals different views and tensions among the Lutherans. Some of these, underlining the importance of intelligibility, argue in favour of a restriction in the use of musical artistry for fear of otherwise disturbing the understanding of the word proclaimed within the

liturgy.”°

Another approach, in line with ideas advanced in sixteenth-century discourse, maintained, however, the view that music in itself supported devo-

tional practice independently of its function of textual interpretation. This

73

Musik-Feinde (‘enemies of music’) against the use of Figural-Gesang (‘polyphonic song’), Dieterich admits that this music is not absolutely necessary, thus intimating an adiaphoratic point of view. At the same time,

formance of polyphonic music, which he relates to an aphorismus aposto-

licus from 1 Corinthians 14.40, whose claim of a decorous and orderly accomplishment of liturgy” often served, in the seventeenth-century theological debate," as a basis for legitimising the use of human ceremonies and for underscoring the importance of the exterior ceremonial form of worship. As an issue associated with the adiaphora discussion, the ceremonies in question were not considered as belonging to the essentials of the Christian cult. A widespread agreement existed, however, on the indispensable role they played in respect of the pedagogical and devotional tasks of liturgy.*' For a number of theologians, the dictum of Saint Paul seemed to relate to the question of the specific constitution, that is, the structure or design of ceremonies. In this way the idea of a decorous (ehrlich, ehrbar) and orderly

(ordentlich) mode of action covered not only an ethico-theological value, but also the very form of appearance pointing to what a later epoch would term the aesthetic dimension of ceremonies.” Dieterich is in accordance

77 Die 6. Kirchweyh- oder Gesang-Predigt, darinn vom ersten Ursprung und Brauch des Gesangs in der Christlichen Kirchen summarischer weise discurriret und gehandelt wird, in: D. Cunrad Dieterichs Ulmischer Kirchen Superintendenten Sonderbare Predigten von unterschiedenen Materien hiebevor zu Ulm im Münster gehalten (Frankfurt am Main/Leipzig, 1669 [first edn 1619-1632]), pp. 220-250. : Kirchweyh-Predigt, p. 239.

” Dieterich defends his stance as follows: ‘umb der offenen Zier willen der Kirchen, damit alles desto ehrlicher und ordentlicher darin zugehe. 1 Cor. 14/40’ (Kirchweyh-

Predigt, p. 239). The Pauline text in question reads in the Authorized King James

Version: ‘Let all things be done decently and in order’ (and, in Luther’s translation,

‘Lat aber alles ehrbar und ordentlich zugehen’). The text of the Vulgate reads: omnia autem honeste et secundum ordinem fiant.

50 See, further, P. Graff, Geschichte der Auflüsung der alten gottesdienstlichen For-

perception was, for instance, included in the musico-theological reflections

men in der evangelischen Kirche Deutschlands, 1 (Bis zum Eintritt der Aufklärung

76 An extreme example of this view, close to a Calvinistic attitude, is the Wächter-

der lutherischen Kirche zur Zeit der Orthodoxie (Berlin, 1959), pp. 90-92.

ungeistlicher und ungéttlicher werdenn (...) (Frankfurt am Main,

aphora discussion are the words honestum, decorum, ordo, and derivations from them. For the use of the Latin terms, see, for instance, Balthasar Meisner, Collegii

stimme auf dem verwiisteten Zion: das ist Treuhertzige und nothwendige Entdeckung, auf was Ursachen die vielfaltige Predigt def Worts Gottes bey Evangelischen Gemeinen wenig zur Bekehrung und Gottseligkeit fruchte und warumb Evangelische Gemeinen bey den häutigen Predigten des heiligen Worts Gottes Theophil Grofigebauer (1627-1661).

1661), written by

und des Rationalismus) (Gottingen, 1939), pp. 1-85; F. Kalb, Die Lehre vom Kultus

δ᾽ 2 Corinthians 14.26 also formed part of the theological considerations and was interpreted as pointing to the edifying value of ceremonies. # The Latin equivalents of the German terminology relevant to the 17Ÿ-century adi-

adiaphoristici Calvinianis oppositi disputatio prima de libertate christiana et adia-

SVEN RUNE HAVSTEEN

MUSIC AS A TOPOS

with this interpretation when he points to and acknowledges Zierde (‘beauty’) as a significant aspect of the liturgical use of music, and empha-

— as a significant element in the construction of confessional identity. A concise manifestation of this point is provided by the account of music in the encyclopaedia Moralium Gedanensium (1654),"° compiled by the Lu-

74

sises that polyphonic music contributes to making liturgical singing lieblich

(‘mellifluous’) and angenehm (‘enjoyable’).** However, it has to be kept in mind that the concept of beauty within the framework of the adiaphora discussion represents just a general normative idea that did not occasion more detailed instructions concerning artistic design. It implied only the overall prescription for a dignified and unpretentious liturgy, thus paving the way for a variety of artistic realisations. As to the objection that the ‘ordinary man’ does not understand what is being performed, Dieterich responds in continuation of the aforesaid reflec-

theran theologian of controversy Johann Botsack (1600-1674) of Gdansk. In this work we find entries or rubrics like Cano and Musica, in both cases

summing up the commonplace knowledge of the subject, outlining the topical field and its various places, including those taken up in this chapter, and pointing to the prominent status of music in the Lutheran tradition as a con-

fessional marker. The specific treatment of music in the work of Botsack is

an indicator that this subject was established as a topos in the Lutheran intellectual universe.

tion — and in line with, for instance, the statements of Jacob Andreae — that, in such a case, music still has an estimable power to move the heart, inde-

pendently

of the proclaimed

verbal

message.“

The

stance

of Cunrad

Dieterich, shared by other Lutheran writers of the century, is an instance of

the Lutheran inclination towards acceptance and positive evaluation of a broad register of musical manifestations relating to liturgy. The musico-theological reflections of the sixteenth and seventeenth centu-

ries, presented in this context, point to the effort of deepening the under-

standing of specificities of liturgical and devotional practices within the Lutheran tradition. As such, they served, one may assume, the ongoing internal theological clarification, and were thus closely connected with establishing

an overall confessional identity while at the same time defining a particular element of this confessional identity. As it unfolded during the sixteenth

and seventeenth centuries, this enterprise featured a pattern of thinking committed, as we have seen in the selected source material, to a set of re-

current questions, viewpoints, and source references, by which the topical field of music was delineated. The structure of this field and its coordinates

were rather stable, but, at the same time, adaptable to concrete historical

situations and the prevalent intellectual and religious climate. Against this background, it seems reasonable to describe music not only as a common-

place within the Lutherans’ theological discourse, but also — in this capacity

phoris in genere (Wittenberg, 1618). Rooted in the European rhetorical and philosophical traditions, these concepts carry an aesthetic meaning that the corresponding

German vocabulary does not evoke to the same extent. See, for instance, I. Rutherford and U. Mildner, ‘Decorum’, in: Historisches Wérterbuch der Rhetorik, ed. G. Ueding et al., II (Tübingen, 1994), cols. 432-451; B. Wilke and T. Zinsmaier, “Honestum’ in: Historisches Wérterbuch der Rhetorik, ed. G. Ueding et al., III (Tübinen, 1996), cols. 1546-1555.

3 Kirchweyh-Predigt, pp. 239-240.

84 Tdem, p. 240.

75

1655). 85 } § NJ. Moralium Gedanensium libri XXX (Frankfurt am Main,

THE ROMAN CATHOLIC DOCTRINE ON ABORTION THE CURIOUS HISTORY OF

A COMMONPLACE

Patrick Vandermeersch

Although it is not a specific entry in most dictionaries, the expression

‘commonplace’ clearly refers to common, indeed, all too common opinions

and quotations. It points to statements that everybody should take for granted; to bons mots, images, and metaphors that have been repeated so often that they have become obsolete. In a word: a commonplace is a truth, but not an interesting one, for it has become unable to raise objections. Most encyclopaedias keep silent on the meaning of commonplaces but, as is often the case, the Spanish Encyclopaedia gives us more insight.' It reminds us of the fact that the concept of the ‘common place’ has one of its roots in theology, more precisely in the work of Rudolph Agricola (14431483), in his day a famous humanist, now mostly forgotten, except by the

University of Groningen, as he was born nearby and lived in the town for

many years. He was the secretary of the city council, a good organist, and the builder of the famous great organ of the Martini church. He stands at the centre of an intellectual circle that used to meet in the abbey of Aduard. Al-

though he did not write very much, he was an influential man. He kept in touch with many leading figures of the Renaissance and was especially respected by Erasmus. Agricola discusses commonplaces (/oci) in his De inventione dialectica libri tres (1479). Basing himself on Cicero, he distinguishes three aspects in every speech: first, it transmits knowledge; second, it aims to convince people; finally, it is intended to provide some pleasure for the listener.’ At first glance, the first aspect seems to be the most essential one, especially today:

many people want to rely only on what is true, ‘evidence-based’ knowledge. According to Agricola, however, not that many things are self-evident, nor can they become acceptable just through a study of their inner consistency. One is compelled to introduce arguments from outside, and here we meet ' Enciclopedia universal ilustrada europeo-americana,

pp. 563-566; ‘lugares communes’

XXXI

(Barcelona, n.d.)

can be found within the entry ‘lugares’ (p. 564),

and the reader is immediately referred to ‘lugares teolégicos’ (p. 565).

2... Agricola, Ecrits sur la dialectique et l'humanisme, ed. and transl. M. van der Poel (Paris, 1997), pp. 68-83.

78

PATRICK VANDERMEERSCH

THE ROMAN CATHOLIC DOCTRINE ON ABORTION

79

the /oci. They are the external points of view from which one is entitled to

Medicine, psychology, biology, sociology, economics, politics, etc., all in-

selves. As there are a great number of them and one is often forced to rely on arguments taking their point of departure in an external point of view, loci should be evaluated critically. Agricola thus proceeds to a listing and an evaluation of twenty-four /oci. His aim is not so much to outline a complete system of them as to point to the variety of all the different points of view one can adopt in investigating an object. The term /ocus was taken up by Luther’s friend and advisor Philip

out any concern for other discourses nor for conflict or overlap. For about two hundred years, we have been exposed to a new style of proposing an

make statements about those many things that are not convincing by them-

Melanchthon (1497-1560), who used the words Loci communes as the title

of a book dealing with the structure and essentials of theological knowledge. Catholic theologians often point to the fact that, despite its title, Melanchthon’s book is less a methodological reflection than a catechism.’ They

put Melchior Cano (1509-1560) to the fore, who discussed in his Loci the-

ologici the ranking of authorities linked with the distinct sources of theological knowledge. This ranking is very interesting: 1. the Bible; 2. the oral traditions of the apostles; 3. the Catholic Church in its totality; 4. the coun-

cils; 5. the Roman Catholic Church in particular; 6. the apostolic fathers; 7.

form and guide us, but they develop their discourses to a great extent with-

ideal lifestyle (in fact: teaching morality), and this is linked with the collapse of a religious view based upon a coherent concept of reality. The ways our new discourses interact are incompatible with the traditional religious

view that saw everything as a part of a coherent whole. Catholicism espe-

cially has been aware of the danger stemming not so much from the autonomy of sciences as from their refusal to accept a well defined place in an

overarching system. Late nineteenth-century neo-Thomism was an attempt

to counter this proliferation of discourses speaking and teaching about the

same reality in different ways.° However, this initiative was not successful. Today, asserting: ‘This is

not a moral but a psychological problem’ sounds like something sensible, although it would have been inconceivable two centuries ago. It would have

appeared

as silly as if you had said:

‘That table is not brown,

for it is

mankind.*

square’. But times have changed, and so have our commonplaces. The dispersion of knowledges (in the plural) and the new type of guidance given by them is the result of modern /oci.

the exact order and number of the /oci. We see, however, what is at stake. In

is an interesting test case of how modern commonplaces work.’ For most

the theologians; 8. ordinary reason; 9. the philosophers; 10. the history of However interesting this may be, we will not enter into the debate on

many areas of life, you cannot rely only on what you can know by observation. You also need to rely on authorities. Cano’s Joci are an attempt to differentiate those authorities by ranking them. Commonplaces designate the fact that you should take certain things for granted for, otherwise, you cannot proceed to more elaborated reasoning. On the other hand, you should be critical in the way that you make a reflexive turn questioning the weight of a particular authority. Today, accepting a truth by sheer obedience is no longer part of our

culture. Nevertheless, as Michel Foucault has shown us, there is a more hidden way authority remains present in our minds.° Our view of reality has

become fragmented, and the distribution of knowledge is not based on an underlying logic. We rely on several discourses that pretend to inform us

and indicate the way our behaviour should conform in order to be ‘normal’,

ὁ Dictionnaire de théologie catholique, ‘lieux théologiques’, IX, part 1 (Paris, 1926), cols. 712-747. * M. Cano, De locis theologicis, in: Opera theologica, 1-IT (Rome, 1900). The Spanish translation is the only existing one in a modern language: De locis theologicis,

transl. J. Belda Plans (Madrid, 2006). See, further, B. Kôrner, Melchior Cano, De

locis theologicis: ein Beitrag zur theologischen Erkenntnislehre (Graz, 1994). SM. Foucault, L'Ordre du discours (Paris, 1971).

Considered in this way, the history of the Catholic doctrine on abortion

people, it seems obvious that Catholics should consider abortion as murder,

which means that they should debate on abortion under the heading of mur-

der, and that possible acceptance of some forms of abortion should comply

with the rules adopted for accepting the killing of a human being. Thus one

comes to various strange ways of reasoning, e.g. if in some cases the foetus

could actually be considered as an ‘aggressor’, since it could endanger the mother’s life. Although it seems strange to deal with a foetus in this way and to apply the categories of ‘just war’ to it, this is the logical consequence of putting abortion under the heading of ‘murder’.* It becomes stranger still when we realise that dealing with abortion under the heading of murder is not at all a traditional, conventional view. On the contrary: here we are in the presence of a very recently constructed ‘commonplace’,

as I will now

show. This construction resulted from the

fact that religious discourse had to become a separate discourse, resting on ‘° See P. Vandermeersch, Ethiek tussen wetenschap en ideologie (Leuven, 1987). ? For an overview, see J. Connery, Abortion: The Development of the Roman Catho-

lic Perspective (Chicago, 1977).

8 See J. T. Noonan, ‘An Almost Absolute Value in History’, in: J. T. Noonan, ed.,

The Morality of Abortion: Legal and Historical Perspectives (Cambridge, MA, 1970), pp. 1-59 (p. 40).

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PATRICK VANDERMEERSCH

its own structure, and was not expected to take its arguments from biology any more, as it used to do. As my aim is not to deal with moral theology,

but to use the case merely as an example of how commonplaces work, I will

refrain from giving my own opinion on the moral issue of abortion — let me just state that not everything that is not a murder is allowed per se. The classical Catholic position on abortion

During the first millennium of Christianity, the statements concerning abortion are rather vague. Without any doubt, it is a sin Christians should not commit, but it is unclear if it is generally considered as murder. There is nothing on abortion in the New Testament, but the topic is present in two early texts, the Didache 2.2 and the Epistle of Barnabas 19.5. In both cases,

the formulation is nearly identical. In a listing of a rather diverse set of prohibitions, we find the statement: ‘you shall not kill a child in the womb and

you shall not kill a child when it is born’. In both cases the same two verbs

are used to express ‘killing’ (ou foneuseis teknon en fihora, ouden genèthen

apoktneseis). Why not use one verb followed by two complements, as vari-

ous translations do? This is curious.’

When Christians adopted the Old Testament only one text on abortion was added to the Biblical corpus. In Exodus 21.22-24 we read, when literally translated: ‘If men are fighting and they hurt a pregnant woman and her children come out of her, and there is not a severe injury (‘ason), the man responsible must pay the compensation demanded of him by the woman’s

master; he shall hand it over, after arbitration. But if there is a severe injury, you shall give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stroke for stroke’.'!° The whole

” K. Lake translates the Didache text as: ‘thou shalt not procure abortion, nor commit infanticide’ (The Apostolic Fathers, 2 vols., transl. K. Lake (Cambridge, MA, 1965), I, pp. 310-313; Barnabas on pp. 402-403). The Attrige edition of the Didache makes of it: “You shall not murder a child, whether by abortion or by killing it once

it is born’ (H. W. Attrige and K. Niederwimmer, eds, The Didache: A Commentary, transl. L. M. Maloney (Minneapolis, 1998), p. 88). The Jefford edition has: ‘You shall

not murder a child, whether by [procuring its] abortion or by killing it once it is born’ (C. N. Jefford, ed., The Didache in Context: Essays on its Text, History and Transmission (Leiden, 1995), p. 6).

1° Translators hesitate about the precise meaning. The Jerusalem Bible (New York,

1966) has: ‘If, when men come to blows, they hurt a woman who is pregnant and she suffers a miscarriage, though she does not die of it, the man responsible must

pay the compensation demanded of him by the woman’s master; he shall hand it

over, after arbitration. But should she die, you shall give life for life, eye for eye,

tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stroke

for stroke’. The New Oxford Annotated Bible (New York, 1991) has: ‘When people

THE ROMAN CATHOLIC DOCTRINE ON ABORTION

81

question is to understand precisely what ‘ason means. Surely, it is a severe accident, as we can infer from Genesis 42.4, where the same uncommon

verb appears: Jacob is afraid that some ‘ason could happen to Benjamin if he accompanies his brothers to Egypt in order to purchase wheat. Does ‘ason however mean Benjamin’s death? This is not clear. However, you

could infer from the remaining part of the text on the fighting men in Exo-

dus 21 that there the word refers to the death of someone, as it is said that a

life should be given for a life. This interpretation, however, opens up new difficulties. If ‘ason refers to someone’s death, whose death is it? The death of the baby or that of the woman? Early translators have interpreted this differently. The oldest Latin

translation (the Vulgate) has understood it unambiguously as the women’s life: sed ipsa vixerit. The Greek translation of the Septuagint, however, thought of the baby, and added a distinction that was to become common in the Middle Ages: ‘when the baby is not yet a perfect copy [of a human being] (ekseikonismenon), then the man should pay a financial compensation, but if the child is already a perfect copy, then he should give life for life, [etc.]’ An abortion at an early stage of pregnancy is not identical with an abortion at a later stage. The Greek translation clearly reflects Greek medical views, stemming

from Aristotle, according to which the soul has to be understood as the name given to the form of a living being. A form does not exist as a separated ‘thing’; it is an aspect of the whole being and presupposes the matter involved in it. Form and matter or — applying the terminology appropriate

for can ity, that

human beings — soul and body are two aspects of the same thing. We only artificially separate them by an operation of our mind, but, in realthey are intimately linked with each other. They cannot exist separately: is the core of Aristotelian ‘hylemorphism’."!

We could list here the statements of various councils, which mostly seem to be aware of the essential difference between an early and a late

abortion. However, their aim seems to be primarily directed at standardising the amount of penance imposed on sinners in this realm and not to discuss the ontological status of a foetus. Considered from the amount of penance

imposed on the crime, some scholars argue that sometimes abortion is assimilated to murder, sometimes not. One could add that other elements, like

who are fighting injure a pregnant woman so that there is a miscarriage, and yet no further harm follows, the one responsible shall be fined what the woman’s husband demands, paying as much as the judges determine. If any harm follows, you shall

give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for

s | burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe’. !1 See E. Lesky, Die Zeugungs- und Vererbungslehren der Antike und ihr Nachwirken (Mainz, 1950), pp. 125-159.

Et

82

est

LE EEE

EL EEE

FOR

Reset

τ

SAN ΗΝ

HAUT

PATRICK VANDERMEERSCH

THE ROMAN CATHOLIC DOCTRINE ON ABORTION

the use of magical practices, intervene in the taxation of the sin and confuse the debate. In any case, things become much clearer in the Middle Ages, when Ar-

have been some rather extreme positions. Some theologians have even

istotelian views on the soul are explicitly adopted and become the corner-

83

stated that this happens only at the very moment of birth, or later still, when the child acquires the ability to speak, providing proof of an operational

stone of the debate on abortion. By then, a human foetus is considered as a human being only once the rational soul has been infused in it. This can

human, rational soul. Those extreme views were condemned by pope Innocent XI in the list of his sentences against the ‘Laxists’, the moralists who showed too much understanding, in 1679:

dard formula stems from Peter Lombard and seemed so natural that it deserved no comment from Thomas Aquinas in his commentary on the for-

nr. 34: Licet procurare abortum ante animationem foetus, ne puella deprehensa gravida occidatur aut infametur.'*

only happen once the foetus has the shape of a real human body. The stan-

mer’s Sententiae:

Hic quaeri solet de his qui abortum procurant, quando judicentur homicidae, vel non. Tunc puerperium ad homicidum pertinet, quando formatum est et animam habet, ut Augustinus super Exodum asserit. Informe ante puerperium, ubi non est anima viva, lex ad homicidium pertinere noluit.?

At this point we habitually put the question of whether those who perform

abortion should be considered as murderers. The foetus can only be the object

of a murder when it has been formed and possesses a soul, as Augustine says in his commentary on Exodus [1.6. in the Greek translation quoted above]. The law on murder does not apply to the foetus containing no living soul.

Some might be inclined to say that this argument ex silentio is not convincing. Another passage in Aquinas does, however, confirm that the great theo-

logian was convinced that a human foetus was endowed with a human soul

only after a certain period of pregnancy. In discussing the embryonic devel-

opment

of Christ, he wonders why

the feast of the Annunciation

is on

March 25, as the infusion of a human soul should normally have happened much later. You would have expected the angel to come at least twice. Discussing medical theories, Thomas concludes that Christ’s embryo was configured immediately in a human shape, but on a smaller scale, not much bigger than an ant, so that Mary’s pregnancy could last nine months." There can be no doubt that, for scholastic theology, an embryo became

a human being only in the course of pregnancy. For centuries the debate has concerned the identification of the very moment the soul is infused. There 12 Thomas

Lombardi,

Aquinas,

Scriptum

distinctio XXXI,

in quartum

in: Opera

p. 952. The transl. is mine. Thomas Aquinas, Scriptum

omnia,

in tertium

librum sententiarum

VII, ed. I. Nicolai

librum

sententiarum

magistri Petri (Parma

1858),

magistri

Petri

Lombardi, distinctio III, quaestio V, art. 2, in: Opera omnia, VII, p. 51. See also A.

Mitterer, Dogma und Biologie der heiligen Familie nach dem Weltbild des HI. Thomas von Aquin und dem der Gegenwart (Vienna 1952).

It is permissible to perform an abortion before the foetus receives its soul, so that a pregnant girl would not be killed or lose her reputation. nr. 35: Videtur probabile omnem foetum, quandiu in utero est, carere anima rationali et tunc primum incipere eandem habere, cum paritur, ac consequenter dicendum erit in nullo abortu homocidium committi. It is probable that every foetus does not have a rational soul as long as it is in the womb,

and that it starts to be endowed with one only at the moment

of

birth. As a consequence, one should say that no case of abortion should be called a murder. However, the condemnation of these extremes did not change anything in

the basic sense that there is a fundamental difference between a foetus with and one without a human soul. Even the discoveries relating to the mechanism of procreation in the seventeenth century did not challenge this view. As is well known, as soon as Antony van Leeuwenhoek (1631-1723) had

constructed the first microscope, one of his students, John Ham, rushed to

his professor in alarm and asked him: ‘Look, professor, all those little animals I see! What could this be?’ The student had put his own sperm under the microscope, and one can imagine how anxious he became when he saw all those little animals coming out of his genitals.'° Spermatozoa were discovered and slightly later the ovum, and a quarrel arose on the relation between them. For ‘animalculists’ the sperm already contained small but complete animals with a little head, and the egg was just a receptacle wherein they grew. For ‘ovists’, however, everything was already in the ovum, and the male spermatozoon was just a little whip giving the stimulus

" Magnum Bullarium Romanum (Luxemburg, 1727-1748), VII, p. 81. The transl. is mine. 5 C. Dobell, ed., Antony van Leeuwenhoek and His ‘Little Animals’ (New York,

1960 [1932]).

i

PATRICK VANDERMEERSCH

THE ROMAN CATHOLIC DOCTRINE ON ABORTION

necessary to start the process of embryo formation. It was not until 1875 that Oscar Hertwig (1849-1922) discovered the fusion between the chromosomes. Did Leeuwenhoek’s discovery put an end to the, by then, current opinion that abortion was not always a murder? Not at all. The traditional view

Still, on November 18, 1974, the Vatican Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith declared in a footnote to its Declaration on Abortion, after having referred to recent research in embryology, that the very moment of the infu-

Catholic medical circles became inclined to adopt the view that every abortion was a murder. This was, however, rejected by many theologians and philosophers. Pointing to the fact that many new cells resulting from the fusion did not get implanted in the uterus, they asked ironically: are they all innocent human beings ending up in limbo, the heavenly place just before heaven where the unbaptised enjoy natural delights, although missing the supernatural delights provided for the Christian just? This place must be overcrowded, with a population much bigger than that of heaven and hell combined! Arguing in this way, the Belgian Cardinal D. Mercier, formerly a professor of philosophy, defends the traditional view in his Cours de psychologie and illustrates this with a long quotation from Dante’s Purgatory."

Haec declaratio consulto quaestionem reliquam facit, quo temporis momento

84

held sway until the end of the nineteenth century. Arguing that, after the fusion, no new break could be identified in the development of a foetus,

16 D. Mercier, Cours de psychologie, ΤΠ, part 2 (Louvain, 1912), pp. 329-333. I have

added between square brackets the lines that follow in Dante’s Purgatory, as they are still more explicit:

85

sion of the soul is difficult to define, as there is a continuous process of dif-

ferentiation of the foetus. The traditional doctrine is not subjected to revision:

anima spiritualis infundatur. Qua de re ut traditio non est unanima, ita aucto-

res inter se differunt. Nam cum alii affirment id primo vitae tempore fieri, aliis placet hoc non ante fieri, quam germen in sua sede steterit.\

This declaration purposely leaves open the question regarding the precise moment at which the spiritual soul is infused. The tradition is not unanimous on this point, and the authors have different opinions. Some assume this happening already in the first moments of life, while others believe this can only be the case when the germ has taken its proper position.

One might think: there can be everybody should know what and steadfastly holds: abortion course, sometimes newspapers

no the is and

doubt. Even if disagreement is possible, doctrine of the Catholic Church firmly wrong, but it is not always murder. Of television present things differently, but

Anima fatte la virtute attiva

qual d’una pianta, in tanto differente,

che questa é in via e quella é gia a riva, tanto ovra poi, che gia si move e sente, come spungo marino; e indi imprende ad organar le posse ond’é semente. Or si spiega, figliuolo, or si distende la virth ch’é dal cor del generante,

dove natura a tutte membra intende. [Ma come d’animal divegna fante, non vedi tu ancor: quest’é tal punto, che pit savio di te fé gia errante, si che per sua dottrina fé disgiunto da l’anima il possibile intelletto,

perché da lui non vide organo assunto. Apri a la verita che vienne il petto; e sappi che, si tosto come al feto l’articular del cerebro è perfetto, lo motor primo a lui si volge lieto sovra tant’ arte di natura, e spira spirito novo, di vertu repleto, che cid che trova attivo quivi, tira

in sua sustanzia, e fassi un’alma sola,

che vive e sente e sé in sé rigira.]

The active virtue having become a soul, like that of a plant (but in so far different

that this is on the way, and that has already arrived) so works then that now it moves and feels, like a sea-fungus; then it proceeds to develop organs for the powers of which it is the germ. Now, son, expands, now distends, the virtue which proceeds from the heart of the begetter, where nature makes provision for all the members.

this is such a But how from animal it becomes a human being you do not see yet: he separated teaching this in that so err, you than point that once it made one wiser

it. [Open the possible intellect from the soul because he saw no organ assumed by

as in the foetus the your breast to the truth which is coming, and know that, so soon joy over such art with it to turns Mover First the perfect, is articulation of the brain

that of nature, and breathes into it a new spirit replete with virtue, which absorbs

soul which lives which is active there into its own substance, and makes one single

Purgatorio, and feels and circles on itself.] Dante Allegieri, La Divina Commedia: ed. and transl. XXV, 52-60, in the bilingual edition The Divine Comedy: Purgatorio, C. Singleton (Princeton, 1973) pp. 272-273. 66 (1974), pp. 730-737, a Quaestio de abortu procurato, Acta Apostolicae Sedis n. 19.

SAAT τ Ξε HOT

τετειττεττιττ τ AIP LSIL nnες RSR το εσείτιRARE ἐτεεττστηετειειτετες SES G

PATRICK VANDERMEERSCH

THE ROMAN CATHOLIC DOCTRINE ON ABORTION

they are so often so badly informed on religious matters.!* One is, however, very surprised when official textbooks and documents show the same igno-

tively to do good. Without waiting for a new and updated theory of Catholic

86

rance or — if it is legitimate to suspect this? — when they seem purposely to

expound their own tradition differently from how it actually was. The most

striking fact is that the most authoritative textbook on Catholic doctrine,

Denzinger’s Enchiridion symbolorum, definitionum et declarationum de rebus fidei et morum, skipped the passages referring to the debate on the moment a foetus becomes a human being from the Vatican declaration of 1974.'° I could add to this many statements of bishops that are not corrected by statements coming from the Vatican, nor by many theologians, who actually know better but prefer to conceal this aspect of their own tradition by using the vaguer formula of ‘sin against life’. The loci and the authority principle How should we understand this move and the seemingly purposeful elaboration of a new /ocus communis on abortion since 1974? The motives have not been publicised. One might think that Church officers have recently begun to reason as follows: if, rationally, abortion is not (always) murder, how should we communicate with a public that might be inclined to say: ‘If it is not murder it is allowed’? Would it not be better to say ‘it is murder’ despite the fact that it is not? But is this not an argument worthy of Machiavelli? Is it permissible to deceive people for the sake of morality? And is it effective? Further on, in this case in particular: is it good moral teaching to give the impression that

everything that is not murder is licit? Looking back over the history of

Catholic moral teaching, one wonders if the strategy of increasing the num-

ber of ‘mortal sins’, until even silent masturbation in a lonely bed would

sentence you to hell, has really provided an improvement of general moral behaviour. In any case, in the second half of the twentieth century we witnessed how this kind of discourse can suddenly collapse. Beginning with A.

Hesnard and his Morale sans péché (1954), psychotherapists started ques-

tioning the (un)healthy nature of Catholic feelings of guilt that made people

so afraid of doing wrong that they were no longer capable of striving ac18 E.g., the celibacy of the priesthood is often mistakenly thought of as a vow and thus considered the same as the ideal of sexual abstinence typical for a monk. A

priest is, however, not a monk, and celibacy is definitely not a vow. It is just a legal

prohibition to marry — something that was also applicable to female schoolteachers and air hostesses until some decades ago.

19 H. Denzinger and P. Hünermann, Enchiridion symbolorum, definitionum et declarationum de rebus fidei et morum (Freiburg, 1991), $$ 4550-4552.

2 A. Hesnard, Morale sans péché (Paris, 1954).

conscience,

1960s.”"

many

Catholics

ceased

to practise

confession

87

in the

late

How, then, can people be motivated to behave morally and — as seems

to be important in Catholic doctrine which insists on the value of individual conscience — to reflect consciously on moral problems? This is one of the central issues in Catholic moral theology. Staying with the problem of abortion, we meet a very interesting controversy between two popes dealing with this question, in 1585 and 1591 respectively. This debate leaves the discussion on the distinction between an early and a late abortion untouched, but it deals with the various ways of influencing people’s behaviour and scruples.

On October 29, 1585, pope Sixtus V declared in his Constitution Effroenatam that, henceforth, the same penalties would apply to both cases of abortion. Up until then, an early abortion could be forgiven by a bishop, and the adequate penalty was to be defined by him.” But, from this point on, the holy See, to which one already had to refer in the case of a late abortion,

would reserve also the absolution of an early abortion for itself. The intro-

ductory part of the document, which mentions the reasons for this change, is

very harsh and displays a very authoritarian style. It states that the Church has often been compelled to react firmly against the unbridled audacity (e/froenatam audaciam) of people who dare to transgress the divine law against killing (divinae legis praeceptum de non occidendo). This does not, however, mean that the pope equates abortion with murder. The argumentation makes a sideways move. In a rather lengthy passage, the pope fulminates against the lustful cruelty and the cruel lust (libidinosam impiorum hominum

crudelitatem,

vel crudelem

libidinem) that prevents a potential

human being from growing up and reaching its final destiny in heaven. This lust also impedes an increase in the number of members of the Church.”

in cultuurhis21 See P. Vandermeersch and H. Westerink, Godsdienstpsychologie torisch perspectief (Amsterdam, 2007), pp. 242-248. 1 (Rome, 22 Text in P. Gasparri, ed., Codicis iuris canonici fontes,

1923), nr. 165,

. 308-311. dum facinus, per Here is a partial quotation: Quis enim non detestetur tam execran jactura sequicerta m animaru etiam est, gravius quod sed m, quod nedum corporu Dei imaanimam qui em, impietat tur? Quis non gravissimis suppliciis damnet illius em sanguin um precios noster Dominus Christus da gine insignitam, pro qua redimen

ium Angelorum destinatam, a fudit, aeternae capacem beatitudinis, et ad consort quantum in ipso fuit imsedium um coelesti beata Dei visione exclusit, reparationem

prius vita privavit, quam pedivit, Deo servitium suae creaturae ademit? qui liberos corporis ab efferata custodia illi a natura propriam lucem accipere, aut se materni m hominum impioru sam libidino at abhorre non Quis saevitia tegere potuerint? ut etiam venena prot, processi usque eo quae m, libidine m crudele vel atem, crudelit

88

PATRICK VANDERMEERSCH

Then the pope comes to his conclusion: he feels compelled partly to inno-

vate, and partly to extend the existing laws on abortion (vetera jura partim innovando, partim ampliando). He has therefore decided to impose the same penalties for both cases of abortion, prior as well as posterior to the

moment

of the infusion of the soul (abortus foetus immaturi tam animati

quam etiam inanimati, formati vel informis). In practice, this meant that local bishops were no longer able to forgive the sin of abortion. The cases had

to be sent to Rome before absolution could be given and the imposed penal-

ties became more severe.”* Six years later, on May 31, 1591, pope Gregory XIV came back to the old position in the very lenient text Sedes Apostolica.> The Church, he says, should behave like an understanding mother. His predecessor had been overzealous (praedecessor noster justitiae zelo accensus), and the equation of both penalties had produced an effect opposite to that intended (Cum igitur postmodum experientia docuit, ex remedio hujusmodi, non eam quae sperabatur utilitatem et fructum provenisse, verum potius multis Sa-

tanae malitia (...)). The lesson to be learnt from this was that Church discipline should rescue people as a physician does, and not by terrorising them.

Thus the pope had decided to return to the old ecclesiastical law. The text is worthy of quotation:

Nos propterea animadvertentes gladium Ecclesiasticae disciplinae, praesertim

quoad censuras et poenas spirituales, ita exercendum esse ut ad medicinam tendat, non ad perniciem animarum; aeternumque Pastorem cujus vices in ter-

ris gerimur, quantum (divina ejus gratia adjutrice) possumus, imitari volentes, qui venit animas hominum salvare non perdere, neminique quantumcumque graviter et enormiter deliquerit, viam salutis praeclusit, quin potius ad eam assequendam copiosa remedia adhibuit, ac nobis reliquit et simul utilius censentes ubi nec de homicidio nec de animato foetu agitur, poenas non imponere duriores iis, quae per sacros canones et leges prophanas sunt inflictae (...)”

We have seen that the sword of Church discipline, especially impeachments and spiritual punishments, must be applied in such a way as to become medicine and so as not to harm souls. We want to imitate the eternal Pastor, in whose name we serve here on earth, as much as we can (with the aid of divine

grace). He came to save the souls of humans and not to bring them to perdition.

THE ROMAN CATHOLIC DOCTRINE ON ABORTION

He did not exclude anybody from salvation, however seriously and heinously

he or she took the wrong way. On the contrary, he preferred to provide many remedies to make it possible to gain salvation. Therefore he left it to us to de-

cide, as we thought useful, not to apply more severe punishments than those foreseen in canonical and civil law in those cases where there is no murder,

since there is no foetus with a soul.

Is the difference between the two popes just a matter of individual temper? Sixtus was very authoritarian, as required by the lamentable state of Rome

when he started his papacy; Gregory was humble and pious. This humble nature, however, did not hamper him from reiterating the excommunication

of Henry IV of France, despite the fact that the king of Navarre had meanwhile converted from Protestantism to Catholicism car Paris vaut bien une messe. But, instead on focusing on individual psychology, we could perhaps draw attention to an emergent change of mentality concerning moral authority. What would interest me, as a psychologist of religion, is the way this shift in dealing with the moral issue of abortion did not reflect temper alone, but a new awareness of the ways authority figures could guide or even

overwhelm people’s conscience.

We are discussing a time when Catholicism was refining its techniques for spiritual guidance and confession. Gregory XIV was a good friend of two of the pioneering men in this respect, Carlo Borromeo and F ilippo Neri. Although the term ‘psychology’ was not used commonly, as it is today, it was a period during which psychological power, along with the techniques for making it more effective, were discovered. The most systematic and structural activation of those insights in a secular context was to come later on, with the invention of psychiatry as ‘moral treatment’ in the eighteenth

century and the subsequent discussions of the ethics of psychotherapeutic interventions, as I have discussed elsewhere.”’

Of course, there was a religious prehistory to this systematic use of psychological manipulation by lay people. According to my knowledge, the

basic ideas were laid down in the Jesuits’ spirituality that put the religious

meaning of individual destiny to the fore and developed specific techniques for education. A topic that deserves further exploration is the new spirituality aimed at the secular clergy and advocated by the Congregation of the Oratory and by the Sulpicians. The presuppositions of the new discipline of

pastoral theology, founded in Austria at the end of the eighteenth century,

curet ad conceptos foetus intra viscera extinguendos et fundendos, etiam suam prolem prius interire quam vivere, aut si jam vivebat, occidi antequam nasci nefario scelere moliendo? (Gasparri, Codicis, p. 308).

only express my eagerness to hear more about this part of the psychohistory

> Gasparri, Codicis, nr. 173, pp. 330-331. * Gasparri, Codicis, p. 330. My transl,

7 p. Vandermeersch, ed., Psychiatrie, godsdienst en gezag: de ontstaansgeschiedenis van de psychiatrie in Belgié als paradigma (Leuven, 1984).

2% Noonan, ‘An Almost Absolute Value’, p. 33.

89

deserve further investigation. Unfortunately, as I am not a historian, I can

90

PATRICK VANDERMEERSCH

of Western subjectivity. It would complement the glimpses 1 have already gained in the course of my inquiry into the history of religious flagellation.” It is very typical how this practice shifted from an ecstatic narcissis-

DIE GELERTEN, DIE VERKERTEN

tic ritual in the Middle Ages to an expression of humiliation, but also a

strengthening of the personal conscience, in the seventeenth century. However, this progressive elaboration of a new style of guidance, superseding direct authoritarian talk, did not manage to keep the Church’s monopoly as guardian of morality upright. The emergence of new discourses challenged it. When we put the theory of the /oci into the frame-

work of the cultural history of conscience in the West, we see a clear shift. According to the formulation of Melchior Cano, the /oci are linked to a hi-

erarchy of authority, but authority is still understood as univocal, as simply a matter of more and less. The universal Church is more important than the Roman Catholic denomination, and this is more important than philosophy, or the history of mankind. In Cano’s view, every authority operates in the same public and recognisable way. My hypothesis, that needs to be confirmed by further research, is that, little by little, people became aware that authority is questionable and were invited by the new discourses to claim their freedom. As a result, the Catholic Church was compelled to present itself as having a discourse of its own, which meant increasingly: an easily recognisable

discourse, a separated discourse. In this context the references to the knowl-

edge present in medicine and biology, that had always fostered moral theology, were silently dropped. Puzzled by the bankruptcy of their moral authority, Church officers tried desperately to reintroduce an authoritaria n style and therefore chose the most loaded topic in order to impress individual consciences: murder. Unfortunately, by so doing, they forewent the necessary reflection on how to bring people living in the midst of earthly manipulative powers to adequate moral responsibility.

COMMONPLACES IN THE REFORMERS’ APOLOGIES FOR THE OVERTURNING OF ECCLESIASTICAL AUTHORITY

Ninna Jorgensen

In this chapter, the term ‘commonplace’ stands for a set locution which is embedded in various and changing procedures of persuasion, or moral edification. The emphasis of the investigation rests on the function of popular locutions and imagery in the Reformers’ polemical works. As a main thread, the reader will be presented with a discussion of the often used

German

locution die gelerten,

die verkerten (‘the learned, the perverted/

twisted’) and, within the same context, of the biblical imagery that was habitually related to it. By the middle of the Reformation century, the proverb die gelerten, die verkerten, with edifying glosses, was integrated into a work that comes very close to constituting a vernacular counterpart to the Latin commonplace books of the sixteenth century surveyed by Ann Moss in her comprehensive monograph,’ namely Sebastian Franck’s Sprichwoerter of 1541, one of the first and most substantial publications of its kind in German.’ Here ‘our’ saying figures among a range of ten further observa-

tions under a heading (wrongly) ascribed to the humanist and pioneering

collector of popular proverbs, Henrich Bebel, Jn nihil sapiendo iucundis-

sima vita. Among

these we also find the statement that artificial people

(‘kiinstler’) are the first to be mentioned in Sebastian Brant’s Narrenschiff. It is important, at the outset, to note the reasons why anonymous locutions in the vernacular were considered sources of truth by Reformation

theologians. In the prologue to his Sprichwoerter, Sebastian Franck provides a detailed description of the proverb, which he contrasts to elaborate

doctrine contains may be appeals

in terms of both its form and its function. The proverb is short; it the summa or the nucleus of a whole discourse, like in a shrine; it subtle, expressing its meaning under cover, through implication. It to every man through its obvious correspondence with experience,

as well as with the innate common sense of all mankind. Therefore, it is

i Vandermeersch, La Chair de la Passion. Une histoire de foi: la flagellation (Paris, 2002).

' A. Moss, Printed Commonplace-Books Thought (Oxford, 1996), esp. p. 207.

and the Structuring of Renaissance

? S. Franck, Sprichwoerter, Schoene, Weise, Herrliche Cluogreden unnd Hoff spriich (Frankfurt am Main, 1541; repr. Bern, 1993), p. 145.

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more trustworthy than any other sentence, and, as it indicates correct con-

were met with a vehement voice of opposition from the old Church. Poul

92

duct in a self-evident manner, it is, in spite of its brevity, richer in content than a long sermon.’

Sebastian Franck was a Lutheran theologian with ‘spiritualist’ sympa-

thies, and a believer in the inner light of man. But, even to Luther, who is

generally considered rather sceptical about the power of reason, Franck’s sayings represented evident expressions of life experience. Admittedly, they

had to be sieved critically. But, polished as they were by generations of use,

and appealing to common

sense through plain evidence, they stood in

marked contrast to the sophisticated insider language of the scholastics and

their far from self-evident argumentation.’ The extent of Luther’s usage of

popular sayings was in fact rather wide; he wrote household remedies advo-

cated by members of the respectable middle class in chalk on his wall.° In addition, in his mature years, he might sometimes replace the scriptural passage on which he was preaching with a popular locution. This was in accordance with his preaching technique in general; in order to ensure that churchgoers remembered his sermons after they had left church, he made

great efforts to concentrate his point in a single sentence, typically a formula from the Creed.° For Luther proverbs had a memorable quality and could therefore be useful, although, of course, they were never ranked on

the same level as quotations from the Bible. 1. Background

1.1 ‘Old’ doctrine or ‘new’ doctrine? Or: who are the intruders in the vineyard of the Lord?

In what follows, I shall give a survey of the fundamental theological controversy about old versus new doctrine in its Danish variant. Arguments

used in the German and Danish debates were identical, but, because there

were significantly fewer participants in the Danish debate, it is a more manageable example given the limited space available here. The Danish Reformers’ attacks on the Catholic Church for having sup-

pressed God’s word and hidden it from ‘the man in the street’ for centuries

93

Helgesen, a Danish Carmelite, maintained as his refrain that it was absurd

to claim that the Holy Ghost had been absent from the Christian community for fourteen or fifteen hundred years and had only just re-entered the stage with the appearance of Martin Luther and his disciples.’ Helgesen pointed out that Church authorities stood on solid ground, because they relied on a host of martyrs, saints, and Church Fathers in their interpretation of the bib-

lical texts. It would surely be more secure, argued Helgesen, to follow the ‘many’ of the established order than to join a party, which, in comparison to this solid vehicle — the Church — was like a fifth wheel joined to a carriage.* Helgesen’s polemical texts were contributions to this ongoing conflict, and, as his target group was local politicians and citizens, he wrote to them in Danish. His writings moreover included exchanges of opinion with a number of prominent persons, such as Gustav Vasa, King of Sweden, who had engaged, on the Lutheran side, in the debate over controversial theo-

logical issues such as the authority of the Bible alone versus the tradition of

the Church, and Hans Mikkelsen, mayor of Malmô, who had followed the

Danish king Christian II into exile. Mikkelsen was a prime mover in the edition of a Danish New Testament which was smuggled into Denmark as propaganda against the subversive government, which Helgesen had originally supported against the exiled king. In spite of the particular historical context, which is characterised by these personal antagonisms, however, none of the arguments referred to in the debate are unique to the Danish or Swedish Reformation. The Scandinavian examples may, on the contrary, underscore the ‘international’ character of the Reformation debate in ques-

tion. In all the parts of Europe touched by the Reformation, we may discern a reading and debating public preoccupied with identical patterns of argumentation. If regarded in isolation as a matter of national history, the nature of the very heated debate between Helgesen and his opponents would perhaps be considered as being rather spontaneous. The assessment will undoubtedly be more accurate if we take into account the use of certain com-

monplaces, which were marshalled and assigned specific tasks in the de-

bate. Before discussing the actual use of these arguments in the contemporary popular literature, I shall illustrate this point by an observation.

: Franck, Sprichwoerter, p. 9.

D.-R. Moser, ‘Laiendichtung und Volksdichtung bei Martin Luther’, in: L. Grenzmann and K. Stackmann, eds, Literatur und Laienbildung im Spätmittelalter und in der Reformationszeit (Stuttgart, 1984), pp. 66-68. 3 Moser, ‘Laiendichtung’, p. 66. N. Jorgensen, “Sed manet articulus: Preaching and Catechetical Training in Se-

lected Sermons by the Later Luther’, Studia Theologica: Nordic Journal of Theol-

ogy 59 (2005), pp. 38-54.

7 See S. Haarlov, Poul Helgesens teologiske standpunkt og placering i den europæiske humanismebevægelse — set pa baggrund af en presentation af Erasmus af Rotterdams teologiske programskrifier (Copenhagen, 2007). 3 P. Helgesen, ‘Svar til Hans Mikkelsen (1527)’, in: Povel Eliesens Danske Skrifter, udgivne af Selskabet for Danmarks Kirkehistorie, ed. C. E. Secher (Copenhagen, 1855), I, pp. 93-94.

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In 1528, Poul Helgesen responded to a series of questions posed by Gustav Vasa.’ The Carmelite steered his course by means of an arrangement of arguments which, down to the last detail, follow John Eck’s model

refutation of the persistent Protestant claim that the authority of Scripture is

prior to that of the Church. Eck’s Enchiridion locorum communium adversus Lutherum et alios hostes ecclesiae from 1525'° was the first big effort from the Catholic side to counter Philip Melanchthon’s Loci communes of 1521 by means of a similar theological commonplace-book of standard references.!! In the following years, Eck’s work was printed and reprinted all

over Europe, for instance in Rome, Paris, Cologne, Venice, and Rostock. As he intended, his model arguments seem to have flowed back into ‘everyday

dispute”. With Eck’s work in hand, any theologian with a European outlook could look up further arguments for the dispute against the ‘enemy’. The ‘dissolution of heretical objections’, on which Helgesen bases his

own argument, is found under the heading De ecclesia et eius auctoritate.

Here, Eck states that the Church precedes the collection of the canonical texts, which the Reformers refer to as their only authority. The decision as to which among the circulating gospels and letters were more ‘noble’ was

made by the principals of the Church. Thus, the Reformers would not even know which texts were canonical, had it not been for the existence of an in-

stitution prior to the formation of the canon.'? In Helgesen’s answer to the

° P. Helgesen, ‘Nogre Christelige Suar till the sporsmaall som Koning Gostaff till Swerigis Rijge lodt wdgaa til sith gantsche Klerfkerij, berammede aff Broder Paulo

Hiele, Kjgbenhaffn M.D.xxviii’, in: Povel Eliesens Danske Skrifter, 1, pp. 167-326. J. Eck, Enchiridion locorum communium versus Lutheranos et alios hostes ecclesige (1525-1543), ed. P. Fraenkel (Münster, 1979).

See the description of this work by Moss (Printed Commonplace-Books, p. 132, and in her chapter in this volume, pp. 1-17). ? Unde haeretico

volenti contendere contra ecclesiae instituta et consuetudines,

obiiciatur, quibus armis velit contendere contra ecclesiam. Dicturus est: Canonicis scriptures quatuor Evangeliorum, ac Paulinis epistolis. Huic mox obiiciatur: Unde

sciat has scripturas esse Canonicas, nisi ex ecclesia? Quare enim credit Evangelium

Marci, qui Christum non vidit, esse Canonicum, et non Evangelium Nicodemi, qui

vidit et audivit Christum (...) — nisi humiliter confitearis ecclesiae authoritat em cum sancto Augustino (...) ‘Evangelio non crederem, nisi authoritas ecclesiae me commoveret ’, Eck, Enchiridion, pp. 27-28. (‘Therefore, the heretic, who wants to fight

the institutions and practices of the Church, is to be countered with the question of with which weapons he wants to fight the Church. He is going to say: with the canonical scriptures of the four Gospels and the Pauline epistles. At once he is to be countered: from where does he know that the Gospel of Mark, who has not seen

Christ, is canonical, but not the Gospel of Nicodemus, who has both seen and heard

Christ (...) unless you confess humbly with the authority of Saint Augustine (...) “I would not have believed the Gospel, if the authority of the Church had not moved

me”).

DIE GELERTEN, DIE VERKERTEN

95

Swedish king, he argues that of course the Reformers will accept nothing but Holy Scripture, but, if the principals of the Church had not made a dis-

tinction between noble and less noble texts, they would not even know what

Scripture to refer to. Even the quotation from Augustine used by Helgesen is verbaliter the same as in Eck.'

The interchange between a standard commonplace-book and the seemingly more spontaneous use of good arguments in the exchange of meanings will not be further discussed here. Helgesen may have found his argument in Eck’s book, or, theoretically, it may have been the other way round: Eck’s

book may itself have used weapons which had already been forged by the

defenders of established Church doctrine. The further prospect of integrat-

ing commonplaces into the study of ecclesiastical history in the sixteenth century is, however, alluring — whether it be directly, as a result of their diffusion through model reasoning in printed commonplace-books or, more indirectly, as a clue to the working of minds which had been formed

through school education.

Even if Eck’s objection against the Reformers’ unilateral invoking of

Scripture undermined its historical credibility, when it came to winning the

people’s support the defenders of the old order such as Helgesen hit their enemies at their weakest point by pointing to the novelty of the Lutheran doctrine. Already, from a theological perspective, new doctrines were suspicious, and certainly inferior to a tradition which made a virtue of its age. To the common people, a rapid and radical change in religious customs inevitably caused insecurity about salvation and thereby dissension in the parish communities. In accordance with Helgesen’s argumentation, his fellow

combatants in Germany, notably Hieronymus Emser, conjured up a horrify-

ing perspective in which decisions about the correct reading of the Bible were left to individual choice and arbitrariness. In cases where consultation is necessary, argued Emser, it is more reasonable to trust the ‘old and proven’ interpreters than the ‘newfangled’ and ‘presumptuous’ ones. It is for the individual Christian to decide if he or she will abide by the Holy Fa-

thers, who have left us their heritage with the imprint of their own blood, or follow Luther’s new doctrine and tear down everything which the Fathers

have left us. Emser concludes this passage with the remark that the day of

visitation has apparently come.'*

13 See Haarlov, Poul Helgesen, p. 219.

'4 “Wo wir auch yemandt in der schrifft glauben sollen und mussen, glauben wir ye

billicher, den alten bewerten, dann den nawen vormessen und unbeschnitten. Dach so hab ein yeder die wall oder wilkuer bey ym selber, die auszlegung die uns die heyligen veter, hinder ynen vorlassen, antzuhangen, und bey dem glauben tzu blei-

ben, bey dem unsere veter, mit vorgiessung yrs bluts, leyb und leben tzugesatzt ha-

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97

It was part of everyday theological knowledge that dissensions would

arise before the second coming of Christ. Intruders would cause havoc in His vineyard, intruders who had always been identified, by Church authori-

This statement clearly indicates the self-perception of the emerging

tion of the Bible against the solid tradition of the Church. In July 1520, this scenario was evoked once more by Pope Leo X in his Bulla contra errores Martini Lutheri et sequacium (Exsurge, Domine), in which Luther and his followers were identified with wolves trying to destroy the vineyard which

following years. The Reformers contrasted scholastic teaching, which had,

ties, with heretics, who, like the Reformers, relied on their own interpreta-

Christ had left to Peter and his successors to guard.

The ‘frame’ * which was activated by the guardians of the church, when they repeatedly labelled Luther’s doctrine as ‘new’, was this scenario

of havoc caused in the vineyard of the Lord. No wonder, then, if the Reformers were sensitive to the allegation and were eager to ‘reframe’ it, in

order to make the public look at the Catholic theologians as ‘recent’, measured against the original Apostolic church. The basic argument, so to speak, in this reframing, in which Luther’s doctrine was cast as the ‘old’ and original one, whereas that of the present Church authority was the ‘recent’ one, was a product of the melting-pot of humanist and Reformed thought which coincided with the formation of a firmly founded identity for the new movement. It had, in fact, been formulated before the edition of the papal

bull. Commenting,

from the sidelines, on the disputation between Martin

Luther and John Eck in Leipzig in 1519, the young Philip Melanchthon, who was no friend of such ‘happenings’, found that its real significance

might have been the public exposure of the distance between the ‘old’ theology, identical with that of Christ, and the ‘new and Aristotelic’ artefact: (...) ut palam fieret inter veterem et Christi theologiam ac noviciam et Aristotelicam quantum intersit.\°

ben. Ader Luters nawe ler nachtzuvolgen, und alles das die alten auffgericht, Wide-

rumb umbtzustossen und tzerreyssen’, L. Enders, ed., Luther und Emser: ihre Streit-

schriften aus dem Jahre 1521, Flugschriften aus der Reformationszeit, VIII (Halle, 1890); quotation from . (‘At the points where we should and must believe someone regarding Scripture, we find it more reasonable to believe the old and proven person than the new presumptuous and rough ones. Nevertheless, everybody has the personal choice and option to stick with the interpretation that the ancient Fathers have left to us, and to stay with the belief that they have bequeathed us under the outpouring of their blood, body and life. Or to follow Luther’s new teaching and smash and tear down everything which the ancient have established’).

15 See the chapter by D. Cowling in this volume, pp. 113-127. 16 Τὶ von Kolde, ed., Die ‘Loci communes’ Philipp Melanchthons in ihrer Urgestalt nach G. L. Plitt (Leipzig, *1900), pp. 24-25. Text in: Corpus Reformatorum, ed. C. G. Bretschneider (Halle, 1834), I, p. 88.

Lu-

theran movement which was launched by adherents with a humanist back-

ground, and was readily employed by authors of polemical pamphlets in the in their view, gone astray and become perverted, with true Christian preach-

ing, which they themselves tried to impart to the lay people. In this, they seem to have leant on the Erasmian concept of the ‘simple doctrine of Christ’. In this context, the proverbial saying die Gelehrten, die Verkehrten was given a new meaning, which would prevail during the formation of the debate in the early years of the Reformation. In what follows, we shall see it evolve through the polemical writings of the Reformers, as well as in their attempts to establish a revised interpretation of history. 1.2 The German saying: ‘die Gelehrten, die Verkehrten’ In the winter months of the year 1520-1521 — a critical and highly for-

mative period in the course of the Reformation — Martin Luther translated

and glossed the Magnificat in German. The product, a devotional tract in

the style of a ‘Christian Prince’s mirror’, was dedicated to his young princely adherent, John Frederick of Saxony. The tenor of Luther’s reading

of the text was praise of God’s mighty acts in relation to the lowest and poorest people such as, in Luther’s perception, the historical Mary must have been, the Cinderellas of all secular'’ and religious'® societies, who are thrown on God’s charity alone. In the further exposition, the frustration by God of all who are in possession of temporal or spiritual wealth and position was underscored. Summing up his glosses on Luke 1.52 (‘He has deposed the mighty from their seats’), Luther referred to a number of German proverbial say-

ings, all of which indicated that the existing order of power and learning of this world was not necessarily identical with the order in God’s view. Precisely this phrase, Deposuit potentes a sede, has been suggested as a favourite topos in endeavours by modern scholars to reconstruct a medieval ‘car-

17 M. Luther, Das Magnificat verdeutschet und ausgelegt, 1520 und 1521,

in: O.

Clemen, ed., Luthers Werke in Auswahl (repr. Berlin, 1967), II, p. 138, places the emphasis on social conditions and on the fact that the Davidic dynasty was withered

and held in contempt. af Clemen, Luthers

e

Werke in Auswahl, Il, p. 145: the arm asschen prodlin is here

connected with a reference to the mystical imagery of extreme self-negation and self-deliverance before the mercy of God.

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nival culture’ with its short-term staging of a ‘world turned upside-down’,!° a culture labelled in German as die verkehrte Welt.”° As Luther’s cornucopia indicates, a flow of more or less set expressions of mixed biblical and folkloristic origin reflected the many facets and layers of the idea of a reversal of social hierarchies under the auspices of an alternative order, an idea that was not at all popular with the established authorities, whether secular or ecclesiastical. Luther’s comments run as follows: Daher kumpts, das man mit rechter warheit sagt: Die gelerten die vorkeretenn. Ein furst wiltprett ym hymel. Hie reich dort arm. Denn die gelerten lassen den hohmut yhrs herzen nit, die geweltigen lassen yhr drucken nit, die reychen lassen yhre lust nit.?!

From this come the very true sayings: ‘The learned, the twisted. One prince is a feast in Heaven. Rich here, poor hereafter’. For the learned people do not aban-

don the pride of their hearts. The mighty do not abandon their repressions . The

rich do not give up their desires.

The rhymed locution quoted first in Luther’s gloss, die gelerten die verker-

ten, ‘learned people are twisted’, seems to have been known in a variety of

forms. Luther uses it also in the comparative je gelehrter, desto verkehrter,

‘the more learned, the more twisted’. From at least 1518, he repeatedl y re-

99

mastering the three ancient languages, was fluent in French, German, and

Italian, gave his candid opinion of the kind of reader who, without renounc-

ing worldly wisdom, interprets Scripture as he pleases: ‘il deviendra de iour

en iour tant plus savant, tant plus méchant, comme dit l’Aleman’#* (‘From day to day he will become more knowledgeable, and more wicked, as the German says’). In a translation of a similar remark by Sebastian Franck concerning the Scribes and Pharisees twisting everything, the same author rendered the meaning of verkert by the Latin verb pervertere. Apart from betraying the fact that a rhymed sententia loses vigour when translated into another language, both translations indicate that the author did not know an original or an equivalent, neither in Latin nor in French. The locution seems to have reached the peak of its popularity in moral literature which, at the end of the fifteenth century, began to employ the figure of the fool or ‘peasant’ of late medieval urban plays in order to exhibit the foolishness of all classes in society. The fool was, in this tradition, a representation of the human being as prey to manifold inferior instincts or vices. Playing on the (rather ambivalent)

listing of learned people as first-

class fools in the first ‘bestseller’ of this genre, Sebastian Brant’s Narren-

schiff of 1494, Thomas Murner, a Franciscan, seems to have caught contemporary opinion in the following characterisation from 1512: ‘Wir [Pfaffen] sindt die ersten undern gelerten / Die bésen, valschen und verkerten’”’

ferred to it as a well-known piece of popular wisdom. He later had it noted down aan his personal collection of such proverbs, dating from his mature years. The saying can be traced back to the fifteenth century in German-

perverse’). This saying may, as Bob Scribner has argued, reflect a ‘credibility gap’ between the pretensions of the clergy and the reality, an anti-clericalism on

being German in origin. In the following statement from his prologue to the

however, as in the case of Sebastian Brant, all groups in society, because

speaking communities,” and contemporaries seem to have recognis ed it as

French Bible of 1555, Sebastian Châtaillon, a native of Savoy, who, besides

19 P. Burke, Popular Culture in Early Modern Europe (New York/Lo ndon, 1978),

p. 192; cf. G. M Dreves, ‘Zur Geschichte der féte des fous’, Stimmen aus Maria Laach: Katholische Blatter 47 (1894), pp. 571-587. A locus classicus for establish-

ing a whole ‘culture’ on this biblical verse is Litterae Odonis episcopi Parisiensis,

pro

abolendo festo Fatuorum,

et restituenda solemnitate

circumcisionis

4 198), in: Patrologia latina, ed. J. P. Migne, CCXII, cols. 70A-72C,

Domini

Burke, Popular Culture, Ρ. 188.

*! Clemen, Il, p. 175. 2 “Luthers Sprichwértersammlung’, in: D. Martin Luthers Werke: kritische Gesamtaus gabe (Weimar, 1914; repr. 1967), LI, p. 645. C. Gilly, ‘Das Sprichwort “Die Gelehrten, die Verkehrten” in der Toleranzliteratur

des 16. Jahrhunderts’, in: J.-G. Rott and S. L. Verheus, eds, Anabaptistes et dissi-

dents au XVIe siècle. (Baden-Baden, 1987), pp. 159-172.

(‘We [the clergy] are the first among the learned / the wicked, false, and

a wide scale, motivated by many factors. The target of Murner’s text was,

they were all subject to false pretensions, and the aim of his ‘sermon’ was to make people realise their deviation and improve themselves rather than stir up dormant rebellious passions. Murner belonged to the generation of reform-minded mendicants who chastised society and the Church without mercy, thus unwittingly handing weapons to the future Reformation movement, which he could not follow in its break with the Church. In this enter-

A Idem, p. 159.

5 Idem, p. 163.

Sie; Catholy, Das Fastnachtspiel des Spätmittelalters: Gestalt und Funktion (Tübingen, 1961). Idem, Fastnachtspiel (Stuttgart, 1966). = Quotation from B. Scribner, ‘Antiklerikalismus in Deutschland um 1500’, in: F. Seibt and W. Eberhard, eds, Europa 1500: Integrationsprozesse im Widerstreit:

Staaten, Regionen, Personenverbände, Christenheit (Stuttgart, 1987), pp. 368-382

(p. 370).

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prise, the poor preaching of God’s word by substandard clergymen (within or outside his own order) must necessarily be the first target. A parallel

source of supporting dicta for their enterprise in the commonplaces of everyday language, even if they did not let it become the conclusive word but corroborated it with biblical arguments. Both ‘arguments’ soon became an integral part of the Reformers’ apologies for their alleged subversive activities. This cluster of arguments will be demonstrated by means of an analysis of two early humanist-influenced pamphlets from Germany and Switzerland, both produced in the German pamphlet war that gathered momentum in the years 1520-1521. A New Apology and Reply for Martin Luther to the Murderous Yells of the Papists, published by a little known but very active pamphleteer called

formulation in his Schelmenzunft from the same year illustrates, perhaps more clearly, what was at stake for the Franciscan preacher: Ich byn der erst in disser rott / Den ich das Gotss wort dick verspott. So ich verkindt das himmelreich / Sag ich dor von so schimpffelich,

Als ob ich wolt den christen schedigen / Und im von blouwen enten predigen.?*

I am the first in this gang / I who blaspheme God’s word massively,

When I proclaim Heaven / I talk about it as abusively as if 1 wanted to harm the Christian / and preach blue geese to him.

The characterisation by Murner of contemporary teaching as ‘preaching blue geese’ comes very close to the polemical note of the Reformers. Ac-

cording to their own assessments, this abomination was a major reason for revolting against the established church and its ‘perverted’ clergy. In this context, the saying die gelerten, die verkerten denoted the rejection of scholastic teaching along with what was seen as its most harmful by-product, preaching on ‘fables’ — an expression that might cover almost anything but

the Gospel. In this connection, they both identified with learned humanists who faced persecution when questioning scholastic doctrine, and also drew

on the more common criticism of substandard preaching launched, to a great extent, by people who, like Murner, remained loyal to the Catholic

Church during the genesis of a struggle for life and death in the early twenties of the sixteenth century. 2. Texts

2.1 Two early apologies When

the Reformers were confronted with the accusation that they were

overturning the lawful regime of the Church, they interpreted their own po-

sition as a result of the ‘deposition of the sedentes’ by God, according to

Luther’s gloss on Luke 1.52. This ‘deposition’ was, furthermore, associated with the popular depiction of the poor conditions in which Christ was born in Bethlehem, and contrasted with the arrogance and security of the Jewish leaders, secular as well as religious. Just as Luther insisted on the truthfulness of popular wisdom, the protesters found an extra non-scriptural reA

Murner, Schelmenzunft: nach den beiden ältesten Drucken (1512), ed. M. Spa-

nier (Halle, *1968), p. 7.

101

Heinrich von Kettenbach in 1521, is, to the best of my knowledge, the first

attempt to formulate a coherent answer on behalf of the Reformation movement in this newly popular forum of debate. Kettenbach was a refugee from the humanist-influenced Franciscan convent of Ulm which produced more than one aggressive controversialist in the early days of the Lutheran Reform movement. We can discern three strategies in Kettenbach’s Apology, all closely linked together by the assumption that neither power nor

learning in the established world are guarantees of true authority.

First, he constructs a martyrology leading all the way back to the ‘Jewish’ persecution and killing of the Old Testament prophets who announced God’s messages in opposition to the inventions of men. These ‘Jews’ are now represented by the prelates of the Roman Church with their helpers, the priests and monks, who possess a wonderful instrument of persuasion in the

person of the executioner with his stake; Kettenbach, with an expression he invented himself, talks about uber disputirn ‘overhas, perhaps,

disputation’.*° In this connection, the fate of Jan Hus is brought forward as a further testimony to the methods employed by the powerful Church. At this

time, the adherents of Luther realistically feared that Luther would share

Hus’s fate, and Hus became the first non-biblical figure in the Protestant

martyrology, in which he remained the most prominent forerunner of antiRoman protest.

Kettenbach continues with a list of the New Testament men of power who promoted the execution of Jesus; the high priests Annas and Caiaphas,

the politicians Pilate and King Herod, and — with a rhymed pun on the Ger-

man word for ‘scribe’ — ‘The synagogue of the “twisted in Scripture”’ (die Schriftverkehrten instead of the Schrifigelehrten, literally ‘learned in Scrip-

” H. von Kettenbach, Ein neu Apologia und Verantwortung Martini Luthers wider

der Papisten Mordgeschrei, in: O. Clemen, ed., Flugschriften aus den ersten Jahren der Reformation, Il (Halle, 1907), pp. 153-175. ii Kettenbach, Apologia, p. 159.

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ture’).’' The pun suggests that the on a more thorough inspection, is perspective forms the second line allegation that Luther’s teaching is

parts may be inverted in a world which, showing itself from its reverse side. This of argument and responds directly to the ‘new’:

Zuo dem v. klagt das lugenhafftig volck, der Luther bring herfür ein new leer

unnd ein newen glawben. Darumb einfeltigen sprechen: Ich wil blyben by dem

DIE GELERTEN, DIE VERKERTEN

103

approach to the theological enterprise, which is in turn identified with having a training in scholastic theology.*

The third strategy proposed in the Apology is to point out the similari-

ties between Luther’s party and the followers of the historical Jesus, a poor

baby born of poor parents and placed in a manger. His first followers were simple men from the countryside, not well-to-do people such as the scribes

and the Pharisees who, on the contrary, scorned him. Likewise, Luther’s

altten glawben unnd myner vorfarn, so sy doch nit wissen den altten, auch nit den newen glawben. Sie wissen nit den altten glawben, den Christus unnd seyne Junger geleert habenn, sy wissen ouch nit den newen glawben, den uns die

followers are unlearned lay people; only few from the universities and monastic orders listen to him. Kettenbach maintains that this observation is part of the Catholic objections against Luther.” But: ‘Die Hyrtenn auff dem

lis erdact unnd furgelegt haben.”

zuo Jherusalem und gingen nit zuo im’* (‘The shepherds in the field (...)

This lying kind [the established Church] complains that Luther produces a new doctrine and a new faith; therefore many simple people say: ‘I will stay with the old faith and with my ancestors’, although they know neither the old nor the

Jerusalem and did not go to him’). The biblical narrative corroborates the ‘historical’ observation that the religious establishment was never a friend of genuine Christianity, which it blacklisted as unworthy of attention, wher-

taught, and they do not know the new faith, which the pope, the prelates, the universities, and the tonsured have invented and presented to us with the help of Thomas, Scotus, and jester stultilis.

Exactly this observation formed the nucleus of another pamphlet from the same year, which may be earlier, and may thus have served as an inspiration for the aforementioned text. On the Old and the New God, Faith and Doctrine*’ was written by an anonymous author who called himself Judas Nazarei, probably a pseudonym of the mayor of St. Gall, the humanist, polyhistor, and reformator, Joachim von Watt (Vadianus). This text has

bepst, prelaten, hochschuoln, Platner, mit hilff Thome, Schoti und narren stulti-

new faith. They do not know the old faith, which Christ and His disciples have

According to Kettenbach, the theologians have acted for their own profit; but the lay people should be aware that Luther has now once again produced the pure evangelical truth — this is why, with another pun on the

feld (...) suchten Jesum zuo Betleem in der crippen, die gantz pfaffheit blyb

searched for Jesus in the manger at Bethlehem; the whole clergy stayed in

ever it occurred, even if it be God Himself in the person of Christ.

German pronunciation of his name, he is called /uter (in modern German

lauter, ‘pure’). So the Lutherans are in reality the faction who preach the

old, Apostolic, and original faith, whereas the Roman Church is the faction which represents a deviation towards new inventions of men — in other

words, scholastic theology.

It is obvious that Kettenbach is here communicating a message which refers to and contradicts such attacks as were brought forward by, for instance, Hieronymus Emser in the passage quoted above. As for the defamation of scholastic theology as the working of selfish fools, we find a close parallel to this alleged substitution of the Holy Scripture by then skrifft som

kallis scholastica theologia (‘the scripture that is called scholastic theol-

ogy’) in ‘The Malmü-Book’, which is the most important apology by the Reformers in Eastern Denmark. This text is pointedly anti-academic in its

* They [the Papists] de haffde wæredt til store naffn, Mesterss lerbedste lærde have

are trained in ‘then skrifft som kallis scholastica theologia (...) store scoler og studia wden landss, eller inden landss, och foedt naffn og doctoress naffn (...) de som intet andet iblandt de allært end i Aristoteles’ og i hedenske poeters bager (...)’, Peder

Laurentsen, Malmobogen (Facsimileudgave), ed. C. Gierow (Malmé, 1979) (‘in the scripture called scholastic theology (...) they have attended great schools and colleges abroad and at home and obtained great names, the names of masters and doc-

tors (...) those who have learned nothing in the company of most learned people than what they have read in the books of Aristotle and pagan poets’). 35 4(...) dem Luther hengt niemant an dann die leyen unnd ungelerten, wenig uss den orden, wenig uss den hosenschuolen, ich solt sagenn uss den hohenschuoln, wenig Thomisten,

und ist dannocht Thomas

from the universities, ‘sock schools’

3! Idem, p. 167.

%? Jbidem. 33 Idem, pp. 167-168.

prediger ordens ein Beptslicher held (...)’,

Kettenbach, Apologia, p. 172 (‘only lay people and unlearned adhere to Luther, few friar Thomas is a papal hero’). 36 Thidem.

step. Kiick, ed., Judas Nazarei,

Vom

I mean, few Thomists, in spite of the fact that

alten und neuen

Gott,

Glauben

(1521), Flugschriften aus der Reformationszeit, XII (Halle, 1896).

und Lehre

104

NINNA JORGENSEN

been called ‘the first really new Protestant unfolding of history’. The ex-

pected readers greeted at the outset may be either God-fearing Christians, seduced people, or obdurate teachers and Pharisees; according to each status

the benefit of their reading will be either further edification, conversio n, or

warning. These expectations should be seen in the light of the good news that God has once more pulled out from its sheath that sword that brings strife to any community. Even if the authorities try to force it back in, it has already, by its glow, opened the eyes of so many that any attempt to restore peace will fail. On the contrary, dissension is now springing up to such an extent that

das kynd wider seinen vatter, die tochter wyder ire muoter, das huBgesynd un-

der im zwitraechtig, die stifft angsthafft, die Cloester parthyesch, die hochgelerten erstumbt, die schlechten layen hohe wunderbarliche ding reden, eyns do uB, das ander dort uB, daruB eyn gemeines sprichwort erstanden ist: ICH blib

by mym alten Got, by mym alten glauben, by der alten leer.*?

the child turns against his father, the daughter against her mother, the servants

argue with each other, the convents are anxious, the monasteries divided, the

learned dumb, the simple lay people speaking strange and wonderful things, one in this, the other in that direction, from which situation a common prover-

bial saying has arisen: ‘/ will stay with my old God, with my old belief, with

my old teaching’.

People everywhere, affected by the antagonism of contrad ictory forms of

belief in God, should be enlightened about what are, in reality, the ‘old’ and the ‘new’ God, belief, and doctrine. This can be effectuated by recounting

the facts of biblical and ecclesiastical history, which is identica l to the story

of man’s The universal from the

blindness since the fall of Adam. first and largest part of the pamphlet presents itself as a narrative of history along the lines of Augustine, taking its point of departu re schism between the apostate and the God-fearing creatures in the

angelic world. The main protagonist is Lucifer, who tries, through ever new

DIE GELERTEN, DIE VERKERTEN

105

author comes to the monastic orders and their founders, the whole phial of

humanist wrath is poured out. The Carmelites are not only impertinent enough to maintain that they have been founded by Elijah on the mountain of Carmel, they also claim to have received their cowls from the Holy Virgin. Thomas Aquinas was a diligent, god-fearing theologian, but his works have been elevated to the status of Holy Scripture by his order. As for Saint Francis, he has been so involved in imitations of scenes from the Gospels

that the author wonders if the peasant can still distinguish between him and Christ. As a refrain, the author expresses his worries about the fearfully con-

servative ‘old fools’ who ‘keep shaking their old grey heads, saying: “What

new kind of teaching is this?””.* Thus they seduce the young generation to follow them to the ‘secure’ positions where the ‘many’ crowd together, whereby these many form a host of witnesses for the ‘old’ teaching, which

is, in reality, a new one, freshly invented by diabolical devices. The second part of the tract lists a number of marks by which God and

the true doctrine can be acknowledged.

In this section, Scripture is pre-

sented as the only source of trustworthy knowledge of God. The author moreover displays a strong dislike of any superfluous ceremonies typical of

the humanists, who interpreted them not only as signs of superstition, but also as substitutes for a genuine living faith. Scripture is here called the ‘mother’ of the Church, because all who believe in God base their belief on

Scripture, whereby they become ‘her children’. So the Catholic Church is,

in reality, not identical with the Church, about which ‘it is said with a com-

mon locution “Outside the Christian church no one can be saved”’.*! True

to his general view, the author lets Cyprian’s popularised dictum apply to belief in the word of God, as it is read in Scripture exclusively.

2.2 Narrated Reformation history Christmas imagery played an important role when Reformation history began to be narrated to the descendants of the Reformers.

The notion that

God’s pure word had been wrung from the darkness of an age of fraud and had been brought to shine by a mere handful of heroic preachers and their

devices, to make Man turn from the only true God. Virtuous , brave people are either persecuted as rebels wanting to establish a ‘new’ God, or are themselves subject to an exaltation that makes new gods of them, When the

predecessors fitted into the well-known narrative of the feeble and vulner-

*8 Comment by E. Kiepe-Willms on the contribution by G. Benrath, ‘Das Verständnis der Kirchengeschichte in der Reformationszeit’, in: L. Grenzmann and K.

4l The random information that such a feature did exist in the order’s legendary material at the time of the Reformation is, however,

moval of the veil), corresponds to a long and unbroken theological tradition,

in which the veil of Moses is lifted in the new dispensation and God’s full

grace thus disclosed. Myconius continues his narration in the same key. There was no cathedral, and the spirit from the mouth of the Lord had to go forth from a humble dwelling, but, nonetheless, it destroyed the pope.* From this house came also the prompting to open the grave which had been sealed by the papists in order that Christ should not rise any more.” The author returns to important

events

which

made

Luther’s

success

possible,

such

as

the

achievements of Johann Reuchlin and the assignment of Philip Melanch-

thon to Wittenberg in 1518.°°

The rest of the chronicle testifies to the further preaching of the word and the circumstances which accompanied its progress, following the lead of the Acts of the Apostles. The local Reformation of Gotha, the chronicler’s own town, of course receives special attention. 3. Excursus

plausible. If this is so, it helps explain why the idea of the Lutheran move-

ment as a phenomenon similar to the birth in Bethlehem presented itself as such an obvious explanation to the public, as texts such as those by Ketten-

bach and Myconius suggest. The other way of dealing with decline in the Apostolic Church was to

view it, instead, as a phenomenon regularly recurring in history from the origin of mankind, and handle it in a historical way. This is the case in the Swiss

reformer Johannes

may have influenced the use of allusions to the Nativity, which became a predominant feature in the self-perception of the Reformers. In the juxtapo-

sition of a true piety and an invented piety exalted by men, which is so me-

ticulously carried out in Vom alten und neuen Gott, it is, almost incidentally, mentioned that Saint Francis — the son of a rich merchant! — was, so his order maintained, born in a stable and laid in a manger.”! Admittedly,

so-called Sabbata,

or leisure works,

forth, after having been neglected for centuries. But the tenor of the narra-

tive is the Platonic allegory of the cave, which the author, in his prologue, employs to illustrate the hesitation of the public to confront the light of the truth. Johannes Kessler was born in Basel at the beginning of the sixteenth

seems to have been a Franciscan obsession between the biblical narratives of Christ and yet extant in the authoritative works by late as De conformitate vitae beati Francisci ad

in his home city, but broke off in order to go to Wittenberg. On his return, having been convinced by the new evangelical teaching, he decided to give up any aspiration to become a priest and instead became a saddler. Although a lay man, he gathered people around him regularly, preached to them and interpreted Scripture. The magistracy tolerated this, until his success forced it to convince him that he should preach in a church and become, so to speak, more ‘magisterial’ in his attempts to reform the population. After the Peasants’ War he became a teacher at the Latin school and later advanced to higher positions in the administration of the town. His relation to Watt was friendly, but never intimate. He let him monitor and contribute to his chronicle, just as he also let the magistracy

work.™4

47 “In dieser armen, elenden jaemmerlichen Capellen hat Gott zu diesen letzten Zeiten sein liebes heiliges Evangelium, und das liebe Kindlein Jesus lassen neu geboren werden; und dasselbe lassen auswickeln, und aller Welt anzeigen, wie ein schoen, lieblich, troestlich und seeligs Kindlein Jesus sey (...)’, ibidem. 48 Thidem.

“ Ibidem.

*! Nazarei, Vom alten und neuen Gott, p. 48.

sanction the

*? Bartholomaeus Pisanus, De conformitate vitae Beati Francisci ad vitam Domini

Tesu, 2 vols. (Quaracchi,

°° Idem, pp. 25-27.

Kessler’s

which grew under the auspices of his great humanist mentor, the aforementioned Joachim von Watt.*? In this chronicle, the teaching of Luther is likewise seen as a new beginning, from which the light of God’s word can shine

century and belonged to the lower middle class. He studied for about a year

Our investigation has focused so far on two texts drawing on Christmas imagery, both of which were produced by former Franciscans. It is, perhaps, not irrelevant to investigate whether the recollection that friars had also once been persecuted by the Apostolic See for preaching the simple Gospel

this specific product of what with tracking down similarities the life of their founder is not medieval order members such

109

1906-1912);

cf. the characterisation of this work by B.

Roest, ‘Later Medieval Institutional History’, in: D. M. Deliyannis, ed., Historiography in the Middle Ages (Leiden, 2003), pp. 277-315 (p. 292): ‘The vast and influential “De conformitate beati Francisci ad vitam Domini Iesu” of Bartholomew of Pisa (1390), [which is] (...) fleshing out the by then classic theme of conformity between the lives of Francis and Christ’. 53 T. Schiess, ed., Johannes

Kesslers

‘Sabbata’:

St. Galler Reformationschronik

1523-1539 (Leipzig, 1911). # Biographical information can be found in the introduction to Schiess, ed., Johannes Kesslers ‘Sabbata’.

110

NINNA JORGENSEN

In before mation dressed

his he in to

chronicle, Kessler narrates episodes in chronological order, but, comes to this chronological narrative, Kessler places the Refora broader context. This takes the form of a long prologue adhis sons, in which the father, like Myconius, indicates that his

descendants will hardly be able to understand and thus appreciate the joy

that Luther’s contemporaries have felt at his reinstatement of God’s word in its rightful place. By means of an exposition of the allegory of the cave from Plato’s Republic, it is made clear that humankind is an easy prey to darkness and in need of liberation. The allegory is read on several levels;

already its pagan author knew of degrees of enlightenment. The Old Testament prophecies of a light shining forth to the people sitting in darkness have finally been fulfilled by eternal light itself, which was brought into the world through the incarnation of Christ and the proclamation of the Gospel. But even if this is an eternal order and may be the fundamental meaning of the metaphor, the image also readily covers conditions under the papacy. In his mercy, God has once again undertaken the task of liberating the prisoners from this cave of darkness ‘durch die predig sinen luteren und rainen

worts’

(‘through the proclamation of his pure and clear word’). But the

majority of listeners are afraid to accept this:

Ach, wie schücht der merentail den hellen glanz evangelischer warhait; wie unterschlecht man die ogen ab dem claren verstand, wie Israel ab dem angesicht

Mosi; wie mag man sogar nit liden noch dulden, das gesprochen wird: ‘Bissher habend ir triegerey allain’ (...). [They say] ‘wir wellend (irer gedechtnus nach)

by dem alten bliben’; item: ‘globen wellen wir, was unseren altforderen globt haben’.*°

Alas! How the majority shuns the clear radiance of evangelical truth; how the people look to the ground away from clear apprehension, just like Israel did from the countenance of Moses; how people will neither allow nor tolerate that it be said: “Until now you have only been betrayed’ (...). [They say] ‘We want

to stay with our old faith’ (such as they remember it); or else: ‘We want to be-

lieve what our ancestors believed’.

Just as Christ had forerunners among the Old Testament prophets, the Reformers had their precursors in such people as John Hus.°’ In the time pre-

ceding Luther’s appearance, the word of God manifested itself in various °5 Kesslers ‘Sabbata Py

° Idem, pp. 6-7. °? Idem, pp. 7-8. Cf. I. Wiessmann, Die St. Galler Reformationschronik des Johan-

nes Kessler (1503-1574), dissertation (Bielefeld, 1972).

DIE GELERTEN, DIE VERKERTEN

111

ways, even in the ridiculing of the Catholic clergy by impertinent individu-

als. But now, after the ‘swan’ (as Kessler calls Luther) had begun to sing

loudly all over the world, such adaptations to a less developed public life were no longer necessary. In the second chapter of his chronicle, Kessler offers a survey of the deviation of the Church from its original foundations. In this chapter, Kessler mobilises contemporary critical investigation of history. His enter-

prise presupposes

the awakening

consciousness

of a

historical

change,

which can be investigated by studying the sources. Historical research had

already, in humanist circles, cast suspicion on much of the theoretical foundation of Catholic thought, as represented by the schoolmen, and had ren-

dered papal claims of authority vulnerable to such questions as: how old and how universal were the foundations and honourable institutions of the Church in reality, especially when measured against conditions in the original Apostolic Church? Early in the public debate, Luther had shown that the study of history was a feasible way to disclose the nature of papal authority. He continued to exploit historical sources in his polemical works for the rest of his life, especially when confronted directly with the Roman Church. In the short polemical texts by the pamphleteers from the early 1520s, which we have met until now, we meet this qualification of the established Church as a deviation from the original foundation of the Church by Christ in its abridged form. In his chronicle, however, Kessler found opportunity to elaborate on it. Hereafter, a rather more annalistic account proper can start, but that is not our concern here.

of Reformation

events

4. Concluding remarks Although Luther himself on several occasions mobilised the role of the court jester against the overwhelming hegemony of power and learning,” it needed more substantial material to corroborate the Reformers’ claim that

an overthrow of authority had been necessary. This they found in the biblical tradition of the hidden presence of God in apparently poor and simple

forms, unworthy of notice. They found a related reversal of values in the

exposition of a verkehrte Welt as it was reflected in popular moral literature,

and, indeed, expressed in the proverbial saying die gelerten, die verkerten. This popular proverb became an important feature in the early Protestant

° Cf. Luther’s words in the prologue to his address to the German nobility: ‘[Ich

will] auch einmal hoffnarr werden (...) es hat wohl mehr mal ein nar weysslich geredt (...)’, Clemen, Luthers Werke in Auswahl, 1, pp. 362-364 (‘I also want for

once to be a court jester (...) more than once a fool has spoken wisely’).

112

NINNA JORGENSEN

rejection of ecclesiastical authority, where it served to underscore the perverted nature of scholastic theology and the repressive use of it by the authorities of the Church. During the confessional life and death struggle of the early 1520s, the proverbial saying die gelerten, die verkerten served as a unilateral observation on Catholic (scholastic) teaching. Reproducing a set interpretation, which limited its possible range of meanings, early Reformation polemicists chose to let the saying denote the perversity of scholastic theology. It is a characteristic of the contextualisation practised in the Reformers’ polemical texts that it was granted this well-defined, but also limited meaning. They did not pretend to reveal a ‘universal’ truth about the

nature of learned people, but used the proverb (by virtue of its ‘universal’ validity) as a unilateral condemnation of the ‘depraved’ scholastics. Conversely,

in Sebastian Franck’s

‘commonplace-book’

of 1541, the

proverb was removed from its limited polemical function and reintegrated into a universal moral sphere. In development of this point, which all eleven variants of the saying are used to corroborate, the essence of these mixed expressions is then set out in a short edifying sermon on the vanities of ‘worldly wisdom”.* This reintegration reflects the quieter pursuit of study by a spokesman of tolerance in the world of religious controversy. According to the survey conducted by Carlos Gilly, a possible further contextualisation of the saying lay exactly with contemporary pleas for religious tolerance.” In the end, the application of the saying to the allegedly depraved nature of academically trained theologians turned out to be too hazardous even for the ‘established’ Reformers.”!

COMMONPLACES

AND EVERYDAY WISDOM

IN HENRI ESTIENNE David Cowling The vernacular works

of the celebrated Hellenist, humanist,

and printer

Henri Estienne (1531-1598) provide a good case-study for the use of commonplace material in polemical contexts in the later sixteenth century.’ In what follows, I will understand the ‘commonplace’ not in its strict and technical sense as an element in a tightly structured compendium of arguments derived from authoritative (typically classical) sources and designed to persuade by means of an appeal to the shared knowledge of an elite, highly educated culture, but rather as a feature of the everyday language and experience of 16"-century readers and writers that typically enjoys low cognitive salience but a correspondingly high potential for persuasion by means of its appeal to ‘commonsense’ knowledge. That Estienne was able to operate within the learned context can be demonstrated from his own production

of commonplace books in the 1570s;” his interest in vernacular common-

place compendia is evident in his sustained engagement with French proverbs, which culminated in the publication of Les Premices, a collection of

vernacular proverbs explicitly arranged in ‘lieux communs’ (common places).’ Alongside this explicit engagement with the commonplace tradition, however, Estienne also marshalled material from the everyday experi-

ence of his readers in the service of a polemical enterprise. In making the case for the ‘defence’ of the French language against a perceived influx of words and other linguistic material borrowed from Italy, Estienne consis-

! The only monograph study to date of Henri Estienne’s vernacular production is

that of L. Clément, Henri Estienne et son œuvre française: étude d'histoire littéraire et de philologie (Paris, 1898; repr. Geneva, 1967). More recent critical work on Es-

tienne is presented in the collective volume Henri Estienne: actes du colloque or-

°° Cf. W. Mieder, ‘Das Sprichwôrterbuch: ein Uberblick zur Parémiographie’, in: W. Mieder, Sprichwort — Wahrwort!? Studien zur Geschichte, Bedeutung und Funktion deutscher Sprichwôrter (Frankfurt am Main, 1992), pp. 37-43 (p. 40). 60 Gilly, ‘Das Sprichwort’, p. 163. 6! Gilly (‘Das Sprichwort’, pp. 161 and 165) illustrates the Swiss Reformers’ rejection of the idea, which was allegedly still maintained by the Anabaptist movement, that the study of the Bible did not require any academic training.

ganisé à l'Université de Paris-Sorbonne le 12 mars 1987 par le Centre V. L. Saulnier (Paris, 1988).

? For Estienne’s own production of commonplace books (the Virtutum encomia sive de virtutibus: ex poetis et philosophis utrius linguae of 1573 and the Parodiae

morales of 1575), see A. Moss, Printed Commonplace-Books and the Structuring of

Renaissance Thought (Oxford, 1996), pp. 330-332.

3 H. Estienne, Les Premices, ou le I livre des proverbes epigrammatizez (...) rengez en lieux communs ([Geneva], 1594). Estienne claims in his preface that French

proverbs have been a topic of interest for him since his youth (fol. a vi’).

114

DAVID COWLING

COMMONPLACES AND EVERYDAY WISDOM

tently privileged, in his persuasive and satirical work, a range of common-

the Debate), attempts to account for the ways in which the parameters of political debate are set in advance, and the odds stacked against the Democ-

place metaphors that were evidently designed to appeal to such ostensibly

self-evident concepts as the value of good health, ‘purity’ (as opposed to

harmful

adulteration),

sound

personal

and

domestic

finances,

and

plain

cooking. The choice of such metaphors appears to have been motivated by

two factors: first, congruence with the most salient aspects of perceived Italian dominance in financial and fiscal affairs, and influence on courtly fashion and manners; and, secondly, a consideration of ‘audience design’, in other words, the attempt to tailor the metaphors used to the lived experience

of the targeted readership.’ The effectiveness of such commonplace metaphors may be explained most readily by reference to two important aspects of modern ‘cognitivist’ metaphor theory, which may be seen to be of relevance to commonplace material more widely, namely the concepts of ‘common ground’ and ‘framing’. ‘Common ground’ is the contextual information shared by speaker/writer and listener/reader that enables the latter to decode metaphorical utterances accurately, even when the linguistic formulation of the metaphor does not appear to provide all the information needed for successful interpretation. The example given by Raymond Gibbs (1994)

is that of a conversation about politics between

two speakers of

American English: if one refers to a mutual female acquaintance as an ‘elephant’, this does not, in all likelihood, refer to perceived obesity, but rather serves to indicate that the acquaintance is a member of the Republican party (whose symbol is, of course, an elephant).° I would suggest that, in later sixteenth-century France, use of metaphors playing on financial impropriety, extravagance of dress or disguise, immorality of manners, and indigestibility of food all made analogous calls on the ‘common ground’ of a French readership — not restricted to the persecuted Huguenot population — dissatisfied with the perceived political, financial, and cultural influence of an Italian émigré group and ready to credit them with such vices. The notion of

‘framing’, as popularised by the cognitivist linguistician George Lakoff in a recent book addressed to Democrat party workers and activists (appropriately entitled Don’t Think of an Elephant! Know Your Values and Frame * See A. Bell, ‘Language Style as Audience Design’, Language in Society 13 (1984), pp. 145-204. Moss notes (Printed Commonplace-Books, p. 332) that Estienne expected of the readers of his Latin works such as the Parodiae morales a frame of cultural reference as wide as his own; this is clearly not the case in his vernacula r output, in which the authority appealed to is that of shared experience. * R. W. Gibbs, The Poetics of Mind: Figurative Thought, Language, and Understanding (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 113-114. Compare D. Lee, Cognitive Linguistics: An Introduction (Oxford, 2001), p. 12: “meaning is not a property of utterances but a product of the interaction between an utterance and a human CE base”.

being’s “knowledge

115

rat party, by the deliberate use of metaphorical frames, or “conceptual struc-

ture[s] used in thinking’ by their Republican opponents.° One example used by Lakoff to illustrate the process of framing and its intended effect on the American electorate is that of former president George W. Bush’s mantra of ‘tax relief’, which started to appear in communiqués from the White House on the day that the president took office. This frame belongs to what Lakoff

terms the Rescue scenario, in which ‘there is a Hero (the Reliever-of-pain), a Victim (the Afflicted), a Crime (the Affliction), a Villain (the Cause-of-

affliction), and a Rescue (the Pain Relief). The Hero is inherently good, the Villain is evil, and the Victim after the Rescue owes gratitude to the Hero’.’

Each time this frame is activated by use of the term ‘tax relief’, the view of taxation as an affliction and the Bush administration as the reliever of pain — and therefore a hero deserving of gratitude and voters’ support — is reinforced; the task of reframing the debate such that taxation is viewed as a

beneficial process guaranteeing social justice, etc., is made all the harder. It

is, of course, clear that the notions of framing and of common ground are closely linked, since frames rely, for their effectiveness, on common ground

knowledge that is typically taken for granted within a given speech community.* To return to the subject-matter of this chapter, we might hypothesise that Henri Estienne, in his eagerness to ‘defend’ the French language and, indeed, the kingdom itself against Italian influence, attempted to formulate and popularise a set of frames that cast the Italians in the role of a pernicious threat to the purity and integrity of the French language and nation.’

These

frames would be all the more effective if they were based on his

LG Lakoff, Don’t Think of an Elephant! Know Your Values and Frame the Debate (White River Junction, VT, 2004). See also, by the same author, Moral Politics: What Conservatives Know That Liberals Don’t (Chicago, 1996).

7 See ; accessed August 4, 2008.

last

8 Compare G. Lakoff and M. Turner, More than Cool Reason: A Field Guide to Poetic Metaphor (Chicago, 1989), p. 63: ‘To the extent that we use a conceptual schema or a conceptual metaphor, we accept its validity. Consequently, when some-

one else uses it, we are predisposed to accept its validity. For this reason, conventionalized schemas and metaphors have persuasive power over us’; G. Lakoff and M. Johnson, Metaphors

We Live by (Chicago,

1980), p. 129: ‘Those [metaphors]

that are most alive and most deeply entrenched, efficient, and powerful are those that are so automatic as to be unconscious and effortless’.

δ For the notion of linguistic purism more generally, and the range of metaphors habitually used by purists, see G. Thomas, Linguistic Purism (London, 1991), pp. 19-

34.

116

DAVID COWLING

COMMONPLACES AND EVERYDAY WISDOM

readers’ common ground and reinforced existing anti-Italian prejudices, themselves a commonplace in later sixteenth-century France. The son of Robert Estienne, the Parisian humanist scholar, printer, and

vernaculars that can be traced back to Du Bellay’s Deffence et Illustration de la langue frangoyse (1549) and, beyond it, to Sperone Speroni’s Dialogo

committed adherent of the reformed religion, whose output includes the first printed French-Latin dictionary (1540) and a Traicté de la grammaire françoise (1557), the young Henri fled Paris and followed his father to Geneva in 1551 to escape persecution by the Sorbonne and safeguard the succession

of the family press." Having taken over his father’s press according to the provisions of the latter’s will in 1559, Henri proceeded, over the next forty years, to publish a prolific output of humanist and Hellenist material, including an impressive tally of first editions of ancient Greek authors, whom he edited himself.'’ Interspersed among this learned output in Latin and Greek, Estienne published a number of works in the vernacular concerned,

directly or indirectly, with contemporary questions of the cultural and, more particularly, linguistic influence of Italy on France. Such questions are addressed in Estienne’s celebrated satirical work, the Apologie pour Hérodote of 1566, in which a significant number of the vices seen to be afflicting contemporary French society are ascribed to the pernicious influence of alleged Italian immorality and perfidy; the perspective adopted is that of the Protestant critic of Catholic vices.'* Already in the Traicté de la conformité du langage françois avec le grec of 1565, however, Estienne had concentrated his fire on those who, he asserts, adulterate the ‘purity’ of the French lan-

guage through the introduction of foreign words. The prefatory material to this text is significant not only as Estienne’s first contribution to a debate on

the legitimacy of linguistic borrowing into French from other (competing)

117

delle lingue (1542), where the object of debate and discussion was, ironi-

cally, Tuscan, but also for the metaphors that are marshalled in support of Estienne’s arguments. All the metaphors selected for inclusion here can be found elsewhere in Estienne’s anti-Italian corpus in more elaborated form;

what is significant is that they are all drawn from or appeal to the everyday experience of Estienne and his readers. In his dedicatory letter to Henri de Mesmes, a royal maitre des requétes and parliamentarian favourable to humanist scholars, to whom he had already dedicated a number of works,

Estienne explains that he owes the genesis of his present work on the ‘desordre’ (disorder) and ‘abus’ (abuse) that can currently be perceived in the

French language to the return of a mysterious malady that has afflicted him

three times, and that has caused him to seek out new activities, just as those

who are ‘degoustez des viandes ordinaires’ (disgusted by their ordinary food) seek out fresh culinary pleasures.'* On this third occasion, the loss of Estienne’s wife has diverted him from the normal course of his scholarly

work and has caused him to write a rather different work from the one initially promised to his patron. The analogy chosen, which is presented as a kind of epic simile, likens the author to a merchant who has been blown off course and is now forced to change his plans, hoping nonetheless that he will make more ‘profit’ from these new activities than he would have done from the habitual ones. The habitual task in this context is Estienne’s 13 See J. Balsamo, Les Rencontres des Muses: italianisme et anti-italianisme dans

Fora biography of Henri Estienne, see L. Feugère, Essai sur la vie et les œuvres

les Lettres françaises de la fin du XVIe siècle (Geneva, 1992), p. 52. 14 H. Estienne, Conformité du langage françois avec le grec, ed. L. Feugère (Paris,

!! For an edition of Estienne’s scholarly prefaces to his editions of classical works,

Conformité du language françois avec le grec (1565) suivi de De Latinitate falso

de Henri Estienne (Paris, 1853).

see J. Kecskeméti, B. Boudou, and H. Cazes, La France des Humanistes: Henri II Estienne, éditeur et écrivain (Turnhout, 2003). As Cazes remarks in her introduction

(p. xii), Estienne’s vernacular works frequently arise from his editorial practice as spin-offs from these prefaces; his desire to ‘defend’ French from foreign influence is clearly rooted in his efforts to restore the correct (classical) usage of the Greek language and free it of the ‘abuse’ that it has suffered at the hands of lesser scholars (idem, p. xxxiii; pp. 94-95). 2 Apologie pour Hérodote: satire de la société au XVT siécle, ed. P. Ristelhuber, 2 vols. (Paris, 1879; repr. Geneva, 1969). See also Β. Boudou, Mars et les Muses dans ‘L’Apologie pour Hérodote’ d'Henri Estienne (Geneva, 2000). Specific vices attributed to the Italians are sodomy (Apologie, 1, 175) and bestiality (1, 177), blasphemy (I, 188; Il, 75) and imprecations (I, 201), charlatanism and pick-pocketing (I, 211),

confidence tricks (I, 212-213), bankruptcy (I, 249), and political assassination (I, 353), none of which, or so we are to believe, existed in France prior to the Italian

influence.

1853; repr. Geneva,

1970), pp. 12-14. See also the facsimile edition Traicté de la

suspecta (1576) et de Project du livre intitulé: De la precellence du langage françois (1579) (Geneva, 1972). Estienne had already declared in the preface to his edition of Sextus Empiricus (1562), also addressed to Henri de Mesmes, that a fever

had made him allergic to the reading of literary texts (Kecskeméti, La France des Humanistes, p. xlv). 15 Estienne, Conformité, ed. Feugère, pp. 13-14: ‘il m’en est pris comme aux marchands qui, selon le lieu auquel la tempeste les a jettez, sont contraincts de faire autre emploitte qu’ils ne deliberoyent. Mais Dieu veuille qu’au reste il m’en prenne aussi comme à aucuns d’eux, qui se trouvent avoir plus faict de prouffit sur ce à quoy ils n’avoyent pensé, qu’ils n’eussent faict en poursuivant leurs traffiques accoustumees. Or, tout le prouffit que je preten, est que les lecteurs reçoivent quelque contentement de mon labeur’ (‘the same fate befell me as those merchants who, depending on the place where the storm has washed them up, are forced to do different business from that which they had planned. But, God willing, I will emulate some of them, who manage to derive more profit from this unforeseen business than from

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COMMONPLACES AND EVERYDAY WISDOM

monumental Thesaurus linguae graecae, which finally appeared in 1572 and virtually bankrupted its compiler.!° The work that Estienne now offers

tion, producing ‘bastards’. Thus what is ostensibly a contribution to a lin-

attack on those courtiers who, through ignorance or the desire for novelty, claim for themselves the privilege of legitimising ‘bastard’ French words and of naturalising foreign ones." As Henry Heller has recently demonstrated, antipathy verging on xenophobia directed towards Italian immigrants, which had originated in humanist circles as a counterblast to Petrarch’s infamous assertion that ‘oratores et poetae extra Italiam non quaerantur’ (‘orators and poets should not be sought outside Italy’), spread in the

voured by the ‘entailments’ (logical consequences) of the metaphors themselves, which lend themselves to certain — typically conventionalised — modes of reasoning.” The preface to the Conformité sets out Estienne’s ideological position in the linguistic debate and, through its choice of metaphors, situates that position in the lived experience of the readership. Modern theoreticians of metaphor have noted the effectiveness of metaphor as a persuasive tool precisely because it is able to tap into and reinforce conventional modes of thought, to appeal to the already-known as a means of apprehending the abstract or the ineffable.”' By himself selecting a frame of reference that is both appropriate to his own circumstances and familiar to his readership, Henri Estienne attempts to bolster his polemical message with an appeal to

118

Henri de Mesmes, himself an accomplished classical scholar, and, ironically, a connoisseur of contemporary Italian literature,'’ is couched as an

course of the sixteenth century to merchants, Huguenots, the nobility, and,

finally, the urban Catholic population.” Estienne seeks to harness these widespread, indeed, commonplace xenophobic sentiments for his campaign to rid the French language of such ‘bastardised’ or ‘foreign’ words; in so doing, of course, he uses the contemporary debate about the desirability of purity in language as a means

of catalysing hostility towards

the Italian

119

guistic debate is designed to tap into a set of beliefs about the desirability (or otherwise) of mass immigration and the threat posed to established kinship structures by widespread bastardy. Conclusions such as these are fa-

the ostensibly self-evident ‘truth’ of the terms in which it is couched. The

immigrants more generally. The immigration frame brings with it a series of shared presuppositions: foreign words entering a language, like human immigrants, require naturalisation if they are to be given leave to remain; their

first frame activated is that of food and cooking. Estienne concedes that the thesis espoused in the Conformité, namely that French, of all the modern vernaculars, most closely approaches Greek, ‘la roine des langues’ (‘the queen of languages’), has been found to be ‘fort cru’ (‘entirely raw’) and ‘de dure digestion’ (‘difficult to digest’) by foreigners, while compatriots

their normal trade. For the only profit that I aspire to is that my readers derive some

and easy to digest’).” This frame will be taken up in later works as a means of arguing that foreign words are — literally — unpalatable to patriotic Frenchmen. The equation between words and people, already activated by

Catholic faction at the court of France, whose manners he would go on to lambast in the Apologie pour Hérodote and other works, and towards Italian

presence in the country may lead to interbreeding with the native popula-

pleasure from my work’). All translations are my own. See Feugère, Essai, p. 93. 17 See Balsamo, Les Rencontres des Muses, p. 52.

bastards, et naturalizer les estrangers’ (‘I have always been of the opinion that the

court was the forge of new words, and that the Palais tempered them; I also believe that the great disorder that is afflicting our language derives largely from the fact that our friends the courtiers give themselves the right to legitimise bastard French words, and to naturalise foreign words’).

19 H. Heller, Anti-Italianism in Sixteenth-Century France (Toronto, 2003), p. 3. The quotation is from Petrarch’s Seniles, IX. 1; for Franco-Italian rivalry, see F. Simone, Rinascimento,

Barocco

in Francia

(Milan,

1968), p. 86; N.

Mann,

‘Humanisme et patriotisme en France au quinzième siècle”, Cahiers de l'Association

Internationale des Etudes Françaises 23 (1971), p. 60; L. Sozzi, ‘La Polémique antiitalienne dans l’œuvre narrative d'Henri Estienne”, in Henri Estienne, p. 100; Bal-

samo, Les Rencontres des Muses, pp. 32-33, 37.

the ‘immigration’ frame, finds more elaborate expression in a lengthy sec-

tion of the preface devoted to a description of the kind of language that Es-

18 Estienne, Conformité, ed. Feugére, p. 14: ‘j’ay tousjours eu ceste opinion, que la cour estoit la forge des mots nouveaux, et puis le palais de Paris leur donnoit la trempe: et que le grand desordre qui est en nostre langage, procede, pour la pluspart, de ce que MM. les courtisans se donnent le privilege de legitimer les mots françois

Umanesimo,

have, of course, found it ‘de bon goust et de bonne digestion’ (‘of good taste

tienne will not be discussing in his treatise:

mon inMais avant qu’entrer en matiere, je veulx bien advertir les lecteurs que

tention n’est pas de parler de ce language françois bigarré, et qui change tous du les jours de livrée, selon que la fantasie prend ou à M. le courtisan, ou à M. desguizé, palais, de l’accoustrer. Je ne preten point aussi parler de ce françois

aussi masqué, sophistiqué, fardé et affecté à l’appetit de tous autres, qui sont laisse Je mens. accoustre curieux de nouveauté en leur parler comme en leurs

Z. Küvecses, 2 For metaphorical ‘entailments’ in cognitivist metaphor theory, see = 93-105. pp. Metaphor: À Practical Introduction (Oxford, 2002), ability This 157. p. by, Live We s Metaphor Johnson, 21 See, for instance, Lakoff and l tradition. of metaphor has, of course, long been recognised in the exegetica

? Estienne, Conformité, ed. Feugère, p. 17.

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DAVID COWLING

apart ce françois italianizé et espagnolizé; car ce françois ainsi desguisé, en changeant de robbe, a quant et quant perdu, pour le moins en partie, l’accointance qu’il avoit avec ce beau et riche language grec. (Estienne, Conformité, ed. Feugère, p. 20)

But, before I begin, I wish to warn my readers that I do not intend to refer to that gaudy form of the French language that changes its livery every day depending on how our friend the courtier or our friend the lawyer choose to dress it up. Nor will I be referring to the kind of French that is disguised, masked, affected, made up, and confected according to the wishes of all those other people who are as obsessed with novelty in their speech as they are with novelty in their clothes. I shall leave to one side the French that is italianised and hispanised. The reason for this is that this disguised French, by changing its dress, has at the same time lost (at least in part) the similarity that it used to display with the rich and beautiful Greek language. By deploying the frames of extravagant dress and disguise, Estienne makes

an appeal both to a well established tradition of French anti-aulic satire and, in particular, to Huguenot disapprobation of the perceived excesses of the French royal court, dominated (as popular opinion held) by the arch-

Catholic faction around the Queen Mother, Catherine de’ Medici.”° In the

same way that frequent changes of ‘livery’ were seen as a symptom of the supposed moral degeneracy of the French court and of the financial profligacy of its courtiers (fuelled by loans from Italian financiers), supposedly unnecessary changes to the language, specifically the borrowing of words

COMMONPLACES AND EVERYDAY WISDOM

121

with copious if rather (to ἃ modern eye) unconvincing examples, that French was far closer to Greek than Italian ever could be. Aside from the obvious prestige that could be acquired for French through such an argument, there is a deeper ideological basis for the comparison between French and Greek: the latter is characterised as lending words to all other languages and borrowing words from none.” Ignoring the clear historical and cultural reasons for this state of affairs (he prefers to concentrate on Greek’s facility in the creation of neologisms), Estienne chooses to associate linguistic prestige - or ‘preeminence’ - with what we might call a positive balance of

payments in the international market. This conception is underpinned by a

further important frame, that of borrowing, which is also of immediate relevance both to contemporary Franco-Italian relations and to the everyday experience of Estienne’s readership. The common ground knowledge to which the metaphor of borrowing was designed to appeal would have included, in 1565, widespread discontent at the perceived role of expatriate Italian financiers, some of whom lent huge sums to the French Crown in return for tax-farming privileges and other benefits. The infamous Grand Parti of Lyon, organised by Cardinal Francois de Tournon in 1555 as a means of

funding the foreign wars and lavish domestic expenditure of Henri II, had relied heavily on the banks of Lyon (effectively an Italian monopoly in this period); its collapse two years later, which bankrupted a large number of

widows and orphans who relied on such schemes as the only way of making

from the modern vernaculars, as opposed to Greek, Latin, and earlier states

inherited capital work for them, was widely decried as the fault of the Italian bankers.” In the light of such recent events, and the well documented anti-Italian sentiment that they had engendered, Estienne’s deployment of the frame of borrowing has an obvious political, as opposed to merely lin-

indeed, harmful to it, since they distort its ‘true’ nature. This notion of dis-

ever, is clearly designed to appeal to his readers’ everyday experience:

of the French language itself, are presented as inherently undesirable and,

tortion, which relies for its effectiveness on the frame of masking and its overwhelmingly negative connotations for a readership suspicious of lavish court entertainment and the figure of the Italian ‘charlatan’, has an additional ideological burden, as is made clear in Estienne’s reference to Greek: by masking the close linguistic relationship that Estienne (whose knowledge of Greek was unparalleled in the period) claimed to perceive between that language and French, Italian influence prevents French from assuming its rightful position in the hierarchy of languages as a close relative of Greek.

No-one

could argue, of course, that Italian was not closer to Latin than

French was; Estienne’s aim is to circumvent this difficulty by asserting,

23 For anti-aulic satire in France, see P. M. Smith, The Anti-Courtier Trend in Six-

teenth Century French Literature (Geneva, 1966); criticisms of extravagant dress

and disguise are discussed on pp. 51, 61, 84-85, and 157.

guistic, resonance. The form is which he chooses to make the point, how-

A Idem, concerne gages et cially as

p. 19: ‘[le grec] est si riche en toutes sortes de mots, et mesmes en ce qui les arts tant liberaulx que mechanicques, qu’il en preste a tous autres lann’en emprunte de pas un’ (‘Greek is so rich in all sorts of words, and esperegards the liberal and mechanical arts, that it lends to all other languages

and does not have to borrow from any’).

25 For the proto-mercantilist notions underpinning this conception, see D. Cowling, ““Neither a Borrower nor a Lender be”: Linguistic Mercantilism in Renaissance

France’, in: A. Musolff and J. Zinken, eds, Metaphor and Discourse (Basingstoke, 2009), pp. 190-204; P. Desan, L'Imaginaire économique de la Renaissance (Mont-

de-Marsan, 1993), p. 110. For early mercantilism in France more generally, see Desan, L'Imaginaire économique, 1993, p. 11; Heller, Anti-Italianism, pp. 212-218.

° See Heller, Anti-ltalianism, p. 31; also H. Hauser, ‘La Crise de 1557-1559 et le

bouleversement des fortunes’, in: Mélanges offerts à M. Abel Lefranc par ses élèves et ses amis (Paris, 1936), pp. 307-319.

122

DAVID COWLING (...) s’il fault venir aux emprunts, pourquoy ne ferons-nous plustost cest hon-

neur aux deux langues anciennes, la grecque et la latine, desquelles nous tenons desja la plus grande part de nostre parler, qu’aux modernes, qui sont, sauf leur honneur, inferieures a la nostre? (...) Mais il nous en prend comme aux mauvais

mesnagers, qui, pour avoir plustost faict, empruntent de leurs voisins ce qu’ils trouveroyent chez eux s’ils vouloyent prendre la peine de le cercher.?? if we do have to borrow, why do we not reserve that honour for the two ancient

languages, Greek and Latin, from which we already derive the greater part of our speech, rather than extend it to the modern vernaculars, which are, dare I

say it, inferior to our own? (...) But we are like the sort of poor householder who, in order to save time, borrows things from his neighbours that he would have found at home if only he had bothered to look for them.

Borrowing, for Estienne, implies an unequal relationship between debtor and creditor, with the latter in a position of strength, and all reasonable steps should be taken to avoid it; the French should seek to apply the same standards of thrift and prudent domestic management to their language as they do to their own households.”** The homely and apparently self-evident nature of these formulations belies the skill with which such commonplaces of everyday life (perceived, perhaps, in a more acute form in the context of the nascent mercantilism of later sixteenth-century France) are applied to an

ideologically and confessionally loaded ‘defence’ of the French language against foreign influence. If Estienne’s warnings are not heeded, he asserts,

then he fears that the French language, which has previously enjoyed such ‘vogue’ and ‘credit’, will be unable to pay back its creditors and will be obliged to ‘faire un tour de banqueroutier’ (‘declare bankruptcy’): the solvency of the language depends on its ability to repay more loan words to the ?7 Estienne, Conformité, ed. Feugère, pp. 21-22. An identical formulation can be found in the Apologie pour Hérodote the following year: ‘(...) avons faict un tour de mesnagers à contrepoil, allans emprunter chez nos voisins ce que nous pouvions trouver chez nous (voire qui eust esté meilleur), si nous eussions voulu prendre la

peine de le cercher’ (‘we have become like wrong-headed householders by going and borrowing from our neighbours what we could have found at home (and indeed of higher quality) had we taken the trouble to look for it’), Estienne, Apologie pour Hérodote, ed. Ristelhuber, II, p. 137. A similar sentiment had been expressed by the

humanist printer Etienne Dolet, complaining at Francis I’s patronage of the Italian Giulio Camillo (Correspondance: répertoire analytique et chronologique suivi du texte de ses lettres latines, ed. C. Longeon (Geneva, 1982), p. 100). For Estienne’s own financial problems in the 1570s, which were exacerbated by

the stagnation of the Genevan economy, a general shortage of money, and high rates of interest, see O. Reverdin, ‘Henri Estienne à Genève’, in: Henri Estienne, pp. 2142 (pp. 31-32).

COMMONPLACES AND EVERYDAY WISDOM

123

Italians than it has taken from them.”? (There is an unconscious — or deliber-

ate? — irony in these lines: the terms vogue, credit and banqueroute are all words borrowed from Italian.) All of the frames activated in the preface to the Traicté de la conformité

du langage françois avec le grec can be found in more elaborated form in Estienne’s later — and more celebrated — satirical attack on the perceived affectations of the italianising courtiers of Henri III, the Deux Dialogues du

nouveau langage françois italianizé et autrement desguizé, principalement entre les courtisans de ce temps of 1578.*° In the meantime, of course, the Saint Bartholomew’s Day massacre of August 24, 1572, during which at

least three thousand Huguenots were killed in Paris alone, had considerably

worsened relations between Catholics and Protestants and, indeed, the expa-

triate Italian community and French public opinion, which held the Queen

Mother and her entourage primarily responsible for this ‘crime italien’.*’

This hardening of attitudes is perhaps perceptible in Estienne’s introduction

of a further frame to add to those already deployed in the Conformité, namely that of sorcery. French courtiers who seek, for personal gain or

through a love of novelty for its own sake, to imitate the Italian faction around the Queen Mother are decried in the Deux Dialogues as parrots or as donkeys, or criticised for ‘larding’ their speech with foreign elements (‘lardons italiens’) or with herbs picked from the gardens of Italy; such individuals are described as sick and, as such, lacking the discernment (taste)

necessary to distinguish good linguistic usage (food) from bad. More seriously, this lack of discernment is also ascribed to the fact that such courtiers are ‘ensorcelez’ (bewitched):

Il faut bien dire qu’ils soyent ensorcelez, de laisser des mots qui sont de leur langue naturelle et maternelle, et lesquels ils entendent bien, pour en prendre

? Estienne, Conformité, ed. Feugère, p. 32. The seriousness of the problem of bankruptcy in the period and its unpopularity with the Third Estate are indicated by the demands made at successive Estates-General in 1560 and 1576 that those found guilty of fraudulent bankruptcy should be ‘punis extraordinairement et capitalement’ (‘punished extraordinarily for a capital offence’); see Hauser, ‘La Crise de 1557-

1559’, p. 319. It should be noticed that the Third Estate was particularly hostile to Italian financial and fiscal influence during the period, demanding a curb on naturalisations and the exclusion of foreigners from all but wholesale business in 1576

(see Heller, Anti-ltalianism, pp. 140-153). 30 There is an excellent modern edition of this text by P. M. Smith (Geneva, 1980). 3! See Heller, Anti-Italianism, Ρ. 114. It is ironic that anti-Italian rioting had taken

place in Paris as recently as two months before the massacre, the Venetian ambassador at the court of France having reported in 1569 that Italians had not been safe on the streets of Paris for two years (Heller, Anti-Italianism, p. 80).

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COMMONPLACES AND EVERYDAY WISDOM

des estrangers, lesquels ils n’entendent qu’à demi, et ne sçavent prononcer qu’à demi. (Estienne, Deux Dialogues, ed. Smith, p. 88)

They are clearly bewitched, since they reject words that belong to their own natural and maternal language, and that they fully understand, in order to borrow foreign words that they only half understand, and that they can only half pronounce.

The only way to ‘cure’ an affected courtier of this kind, according to Es-

tienne, is to remove him from the environment of the court, in which the

presence of Italians reinforces the ‘ensorcellement’ that is denounced above. The common ground knowledge on which this frame is based goes right to the heart of the religious conflicts of the later sixteenth century. The anonymous Huguenot (perhaps Estienne himself) who had written the Discours merveilleux de la vie, actions et deportements de Catherine de Médicis, Royne-mère (1575), a scurrilous attack on the Queen Mother and

her alleged attempts to divide and exterminate the French nobility, had made much of rumours of Catherine’s close connections with necromancers

and poisoners.”? Indeed, a strikingly similar range of commonplace metaphors are used in the Discours in the support of an overtly polemical argu-

ment that seeks to discredit Catherine’s claim to exert political power: instead of caring for her subjects like a true prince, who has the role of father

and doctor, Catherine, in her desire for financial gain inherited from her Medici lineage — ‘une maison de marchand eslevée par usures’ (‘a merchant

family elevated through usury’), acts like a ‘malicieux barbier’ who never binds up a wound; she now tries to persuade French Catholics that their Huguenot compatriots are ‘bastards’ and rebels to the Crown.” In his final ap-

peal to the Catholic nobles of France, the author of the Discours returns to

the frame of bastardy in order to emphasise that Catholics and Huguenots are linked by shared birth and nationhood, and that all are ‘vrais François”

(‘true Frenchmen’).** The Deux Dialogues end with the call for all foreign

words that cannot find an advocate for their retention to be ‘banished’ from the kingdom of France (along, presumably, with those that have introduced them), and with what appears to be a coded reference to the pernicious in» The Discours is edited by N. Cazauran (Geneva,

1995); see pp. 31-54 for ques-

tions of authorship and attribution (Cazauran’s view is that Henri Estienne acted as remanieur for a second edition of the text in 1576). Clément (Henri Estienne, p. 32) suggests a collaboration between Estienne and Innocent Gentillet, author of a Dis-

cours contre Nicolas Machiavel that appeared in 1576,

33 Discours merveilleux, ed. Cazauran, pp. 131, 181, 183, 263-265, 269.

# Idem, p. 279.

125

fluence of the alleged sorceress Catherine de’ Medici on her courtiers.” In this respect at least, Estienne’s attack on the linguistic excesses of French courtiers reads like a contribution to Huguenot polemic. There is another important respect in which Estienne’s linguistic the-

ory, which itself made a significant contribution to the genesis of linguistic

purism in France, is grounded in the ideology of the reformed religion. In

the preface to the Traicté de la conformité du langage françois avec le grec, Estienne had, after having rejected the affected and ‘disguised’ language of the courtiers as a worthy object of study, announced that his treatise would consider only the French that was ‘pur et simple, n’ayant rien de fard ni d’affectation, lequel M. le courtisan n’a point encores changé ἃ sa guise, et qui ne tient rien d’emprunt des langues modernes’* (‘pure and simple,

without make-up

or affectation, the sort of language

that our friend the

courtier has not yet changed to suit himself, and that has no borrowings from the modern vernaculars’). A similar conception is found in the Calvinist pastor Pierre Viret’s Disputations Chrestiennes, touchant l’estat des trepassez, faites par dialogues, printed by Jean Gerard in Geneva with a prefatory epistle by Jean Calvin in 1544.*’ In his own preface, Viret defends his decision to write in French and not Latin by arguing that the Holy Spirit, although it does not reject eloquence outright, much prefers ‘simplicité de langage’ to ‘eloquence pompeuse’ (p. 35); those who practise the latter are no more than ‘magpies’ or ‘parrots’ who lack good judgement and, in their insatiable desire for novelty, forge a new language that contains half understood elements of Latin and French (p. 36). Such ‘affectateurs de langage’

even go so far as to ‘mendier et desrober les langues estrangeres’ (‘beg and

steal from foreign languages’, ibidem).** More seriously, their preference for showy eloquence leads them to neglect the study of the Scriptures for # Deux Dialogues, ed. Smith, pp. 418-419 (‘bannissement’ of foreign words) and 439 (‘ensorcellement’). For polemical Huguenot attacks against Catherine as a witch and Italians as parasitical leeches sucking the blood of the body politic, see C. Wells, ‘Leeches on the Body Politic: Xenophobia and Witchcraft in Early Modern French Political Thought’, French Historical Studies 22 (1999), pp. 351-377. % Estienne, Conformité, ed. Feugère, p. 20. ?7 I have consulted the 1552 edition. 38 The metaphor of begging words from foreign languages is also found in the twelfth chapter of the second book of Du Bellay’s Deffence et Illustration de la langue françoyse of 1549: ‘Pourquoy donques sommes nous si grands admirateurs d’autruy? Pourquoy sommes nous tant iniques 4 nous mesmes? Pourquoy mandions nous les langues etrangeres, comme si nous avions honte d’user de la nostre?’ (‘Why are we such great admirers of other peoples? Why are we so hard on ourselves? Why do we beg [words] from foreign languages, as if we were ashamed to make use of our own?’), La Deffence, et illustration de la langue françoyse (1549), ed. J.-C. Monferran (Geneva, 2001), p. 174.

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that of the authors of pagan Antiquity, with predictably disastrous conse-

the lattice (transenna)” insofar as they create structure in a complex domain of experience while at the same time hiding parts of it: the exclusive emphasis on the risks inherent in international trade and the supposed ignorance of parrot-like courtiers conceals the possible benefit to be derived from cultural exchange and downplays the linguistic sophistication of bilingual speakers."' A skilful polemicist such as Henri Estienne exploited precisely this interplay between disclosure and occlusion in order to encourage his readers to conceptualise the problem of linguistic and cultural borrowing in exclusively negative terms and, ultimately, to turn this conceptualisation into a new commonplace. While it is clear that Estienne failed to stem the immediate tide of Italian borrowing, the hostile French reaction to linguistic

quences. Linguistic practice and morality are thus closely linked for Viret,

as they are for Estienne, who writes frequently of the ‘dépravation’ of the French language at the hands of the (depraved) courtiers of Catherine de’ Medici.” Viret judges that those who practise such affected language are themselves ill, and that they lack the ability to distinguish good food from bad, or to see that the best language is that which is ‘simple et sans fard’ (‘simple and without make-up’, pp. 40-41). Without necessarily wishing to establish a verifiable intertextual relationship between Viret’s Disputations Chrestiennes and Estienne’s later works,

I would argue that Estienne’s own

particular brand of linguistic theory owes much to such avowedly Calvinist conceptions of language; what is most striking, however, is that Estienne’s appeal to the everyday knowledge of his readers, and specifically to knowledge that is associated with the running of a middle-class household, can also be found in Viret’s Disputations. A discussion of Purgatory is introduced by a long comparison in which it is likened to a laundry, in which souls, like dirty clothes, are put out to air, washed, cleaned and steamed (p. 145). Estienne’s readership, like that of Viret, appears most susceptible to argumentation of this kind, in which everyday competences are brought to

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borrowing from English in the late 20" century would seem to bear out the

long-term success of this persuasive enterprise.”

bear on the analysis of complex phenomena. The commonplace frames activated in such argumentation were intended by the authors to provide a

powerful model not just for the interpretation of their texts, but also for political action in defence of the purity and integrity of France itself. While it cannot be argued that Estienne’s vernacular polemics draw directly on commonplace books of the kind discussed by Ann Moss in this

volume, it is, I hope, clear that his vernacular writings make an appeal to a body of knowledge that, although not grounded in the learned tradition, en-

joyed a similar level of authority among his readers and was designed to strike a chord with those who felt disadvantaged or disenfranchised by perceived Italian influence in both courtly and commercial circles. Indeed, it could be argued that ‘frames’, as understood by modern cognitivist theoreticians of metaphor, function in a way analogous to the analytical categories of the commonplace tradition by focusing attention on one — typically conventionalised — aspect of a controversial topic while simultaneously occluding other aspects of it. In this respect, they recall the Ciceronian image of

# For ‘dépravation’ as a key concept for Estienne’s linguistic judgements in his Précellence du langage françois of 1579, see P. Swiggers, ‘Français, italien (et

espagnol): un concours de “précellence” chez Henri Estienne’, in: G. Holtus, J. Kramer and W. Schweickard, eds, Jtalica et Romanica: Festschrift für Max Pfister zum 65. Geburtstag, Il (Tübingen, 1997), pp. 297-311 (p. 303, n. 1).

40 For a discussion of this image, found in the De oratore, 1. 35. 162, see T. Cave,

The Cornucopian Text: Problems of Writing in the French Renaissance (Oxford, 1979), p. 122.

# For a reading of Estienne’s Deux Dialogues that addresses questions of bilingualism and code-switching, see D. Cowling, ‘Henri Estienne and the Problem of French-Italian Code-Switching in Sixteenth-Century France’, in: W. Ayres-Bennett and M. C. Jones, eds, The French Language and Questions of Identity (Oxford,

2007), pp. 162-170. ‘2 For the influence of Estienne on 20"-century French linguistic purists, see D. Hornsby, ‘Patriotism and Linguistic Purism in France: Deux Dialogues dans le nouveau langage françois [sic] and Parlez-vous Franglais?’, Journal of European Studies 28 (1998), pp. 331-354.

ROYAL AUTHORITY AND COMMONPLACE SIMILITUDES IN FRENCH NATURAL-PHILOSOPHICAL POETRY DUCHESNE’S GRAND MIROIR DU MONDE AND DU BARTAS’S SEPMAINE

Kathryn Banks Commonplace metaphors and royal authority in natural-philosophical poetry During the turbulent final decades of the sixteenth century in France, royal

authority was profoundly challenged. At the same time, Guillaume de Saluste Du Bartas’s Sepmaine, ou la creation du monde (The Week or the Creation of the World) became an unprecedented publishing phenomenon, and inspired a number of imitations. The genre spawned by the Sepmaine has primarily natural-philosophical and religious concerns, and only very recently have any of its contributions to political debate been analysed.' However, dotted about in these long poems are polemical representations of royal authority and of the relationship between kings and their subjects, topics which were a source of intense anxiety in late sixteenth-century France. This discussion of monarchy within natural-philosophical poems is dependent upon the very common analogy between nature and human society, between the natural world and the societal one. The underlying similarity be-

tween nature and society was the foundation of a wide variety of more spe-

cific analogies, such as those between the human body and the body politic, between animal communities and human societies, or between the sun and

the king. These are ‘commonplaces’ in the sense that they represent com-

mon cultural material in late sixteenth-century France, and, furthermore, were the basis for various similitudes — in the sense of particular instances

! See my Cosmos and Image in the Renaissance: French Love Lyric and NaturalPhilosophical Poetry (Oxford, 2008), chapt. 2, pp. 64-80, 87-90. See also J.-R. Fanlo, ‘La Matière de l’œuvre: à propos du “premier jour”, Cahiers textuel 13 (1993), pp. 115-131; Banks, ‘Interpretations of the Body Politic and of Natural Bodies in Late Sixteenth-Century France’, in: A. Musolff and J. Zinken, eds, Metaphor

and Discourse (Basingstoke, 2009), pp. 205-218.

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of making and developing likenesses’ — which appeared in commonplace

books.

As I have shown elsewhere, Du Bartas makes a provocative and con-

troversial argument against nascent absolutism by formulating the body politic analogy in an original way.’ Several poets who imitated both Du Bartas’s style and his presentation of the world through a Biblical lens furthermore shared his practice of evoking political concerns through commonplace analogies between the natural and the societal. This chapter will examine, alongside Du Bartas’s Sepmaine, Joseph Duchesne’s Grand Miroir du monde. Like Du Bartas’s poem, Duchesne’s Grand Miroir depicts

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counted in Genesis), Du Bartas revisits the Creation of the previous six days and emphasises the importance of the natural world in providing lessons for

the human one, and then proceeds to dedicate the second half of his seventh ‘day’ to such lessons.° Similarly, Duchesne states that humankind should be ashamed, given the loyalty and love manifested by animals, and then goes

Henri de Navarre, Duchesne wrote a decade later than Du Bartas, when a

on to give humanity a series of lessons in fidelity from the animal kingdom.’ Turning to manifestations of hatred or aggression in animals, Duchesne finds lessons for humanity there too In short, naturalphilosophical poetry in the style of Du Bartas was one of those Renaissance discourses in which similarity was a central epistemological category, and the similarity between the natural and the societal or political was an important one. Indeed, while the representation of the natural world is justified for these poets by its status as an image of its Creator (as Du Bartas says explicitly and Duchesne’s title suggests), it seems also to be validated by its ability to provide lessons for human society.

lics, and Navarre was next in line to the throne. Furthermore, both Du Bar-

controversy concerning monarchy and Navarre had become extremely acute, an enlarged edition was published which made even greater use of commonplace analogies to form arguments about kingship. I would argue that the 1593 edition, in common with some apocalyptic poetry, bears witness to an increasing politicisation of the genre popularised by Du Bartas; it

the created cosmos, whereas others of Du Bartas’s imitators, such as Jude

Serclier and Michel Quillian, focus upon the apocalypse.’ Moreover, comparing Duchesne’s depiction of kingship with that of Du Bartas is particularly interesting since, although both men were Huguenots in the service of fundamental shift had taken place in the debate about kingship and Navarre’s relationship to it. As I shall go on to explain, when Du Bartas was writing the Sepmaine, royal authority was undermined by some elements of Protestant political thought and by armies led by Navarre; by contrast, a decade later, it was challenged less by Protestants than by hard-line Cathotas and Duchesne emphasise the validity of arguments from weight to their use of commonplace analogies between the human worlds, and thus to their depictions of kingship. ‘day’ of his Sepmaine (which is structured by the Creation

nature, lending natural and the On the seventh narrative as re-

? For Erasmus and Rudolph Agricola, similitudes operated primarily in rhetoric, although they constituted a place of humanist dialectic; by the third quarter of the sixteenth century, though, they were ‘being secured to the chains of reason supplied by

Aristotelian logic’ (A. Moss, “Thinking Through Similitudes’, paper delivered at the fifty-first annual meeting of the Renaissance Society of America, University of

Cambridge, April 7, 2005); see also Moss’s contribution to this volume, pp.

(pp. 11-12).

1-17

* For example, one comparison for the monarch collected by Erasmus in a common-

place sun’s diviti, (‘Just

book of similitudes is — like some I will discuss from poetry — based upon the bestowal of heat and light upon humankind: Ut sol non alius est pauperi, alius sed omnibus communis: Ita princeps personam spectare non debet, sed rem as the sun is no different towards the poor man or towards the rich man but is

the same towards all, so the prince must not pay attention to status but to reality’; cited from Conrad Lycosthenes’s re-organisation of the Parabolae (Lyon, 1614), Ρ. 96, my transl.). Banks, Cosmos, chapt. 2, pp. 64-80, 87-90. SM. Quillian, La Derniere Semaine ou consommation du monde (Paris, 1596); J. Serclier, Le Grand Tombeau du monde, ou jugement final (Lyon, 1606).

The Grand Miroir was first published in 1587. Then, in 1593, when

also allows us to trace the representation of kingship — by a Huguenot in the service of Navarre — over the years during which the League most radically

challenged royal authority while Navarre fought to conquer what, after 1589, he considered his own kingdom. However, these issues are beyond

the scope of this study, which will analyse Duchesne’s 1587 depiction of royal authority through commonplaces, namely the similarities of kings both to the sun and also to ‘royal’ animals, in this case the ichneumon.” I will compare this to Du Bartas’s use of similar commonplaces to construct a very different depiction of kingship, a difference that can be attributed at

least in part to the changing political climate in the 1580s. Finally, I will analyse more directly what this comparison can tell us about the functioning of commonplace analogies, both in general and in natural-philosophical po-

° G. de Saluste Du Bartas, La Sepmaine, in: U. T. Holmes, J. C. Lyons, R. W. Linker, et al., eds, The Works of Guillaume De Salluste Sieur Du Bartas (Chapel Hill, 1935-1940), II, pp. 193-440 (Day VII, ll. 435-716). Lor Duchesne, Le Grand Miroir du monde (Lyon, 1587), pp. 147-150. All citations from the Grand Miroir are from this edition, except where reference is explicitly made to the 1593 edition. 5 Duchesne, Le Grand Miroir, pp. 150-153. See also the 1593 edition, p. 577.

° Duchesne also compares kings to the four cosmic elements (Le Grand Miroir, pp. 157-159).

CRC

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etry in particular. However, before doing so, it will be useful to remind the reader of some late sixteenth-century French history, placing the focus upon the crucial question of royal authority in the period up to 1587.

ble. It was motivated by a desire to prevent Navarre’s accession as well as

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Royal authority in late sixteenth-century France The latter decades of the sixteenth century witnessed profound challenges to the French monarchy, in the form of active resistance, criticism of the king,

and theoretical elaborations of limits upon royal power. In the wake of the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre of 1572, in which the royal family were implicated, Protestant ‘monarchomachs”” argued that royal power was con-

stitutionally limited, and that kings who abused their power could legitimately be resisted. These ideas were influential amongst moderate Catholics as well as Protestants. The fifth civil war (1575-1576) saw Protestants and Catholic Malcontents (under the leadership of Navarre and Condé) raising

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to protect Catholicism more generally; it also wished to maintain — in the

face of the increasing intrusion of the monarchy — the privileges and freedoms of the clergy, the nobility, and the members of the city communes.!* Meanwhile, Navarre — who, despite leading troops against royal armies, had been careful to protest his fidelity to the king — portrayed his goals as identical to those of the royal family, presenting the League as their common enemy, as well as that of religion and of France.'° At the same time, France was beset by serious social and economic

problems. Its civil populations witnessed violence at a ‘dramatically elevated point of intensity’, which relativised even the atrocities of the earlier wars, and which was perceived as an ‘inhuman’ and unprecedented ‘predation’;'° armed bands of robbers infested the countryside engaging in pillage

and assault.'’ Economically, too, France was in crisis, and royal policy in

this area alienated almost every segment of society.!* Taxes caused discon-

armies together in open rebellion against the king, Henri III. In the south and west, institutions, usually called assemblées politiques, developed to lead resistance to royal authority. Du Bartas wrote his Sepmaine in this context, beginning its composition at least as early as 1574 and first publishing

tent, especially since the king was seen to bestow great opulence upon a

and fought in his service, as well as participating in the Academy at the Court of Navarre and serving there as a kind of court poet.!? From the late 1570s, hard-line Catholics also challenged royal authority, with consequences which would be of much greater magnitude. The

a poor financial situation, it had become

it in 1578.'' Meanwhile,

in 1576, he became Navarre’s écuyer tranchant

relatively far-reaching concessions made to the Protestants in the 1576 Peace of Monsieur implied for many that their new king was not committed

to defeating heresy. For the first time, a Catholic League was organised on a national level to fight the Huguenots independently of the crown. The League’s oath demanded full allegiance to the head of the League, thus un-

dermining the primacy of fidelity to the king.! short-lived, but reappeared in 1584 following the jou, which placed Navarre, a Protestant, next in according to the customary rules of succession.

The League was initially death of the duke of Anline to the throne, at least The new League of 1584

had far greater membership than before, comprising not only an association of nobles but also an urban organisation that would be larger and more visi-

10 For Droit 11 Du 12 Du teenth A

example, Frangois Hotman (Francogallia, 1573) and Théodore de Béze (Du des magistrats, 1574). Bartas, Works, I, p. 12. Bartas, Works, I, pp. 11-12; F. A. Yates, The French Academies of the SixCentury (London, 1947), p. 123, n. 3. Baumgartner, Radical Reactionaries: The Political Thought of the French

Catholic League (Geneva, 1976), pp. 55-56.

very small number of the noblesse moyenne, his mignons; this was criticised even by moderate observers, and was a consistent theme in League pam-

phlets after 1585.'° The king also bestowed upon his favourites honours including the governorships of towns. In addition, while many nobles were in increasingly difficult to obtain

credit, and tax-collectors and money-lenders — often resented all the more since they were Italian — made good profits.” Furthermore, Henri III failed to satisfy the keenly-felt need for a strong leader; he seemed to escape into ‘cloistered unreality’ rather than to confront the challenges facing him in any sustained or coherent manner.” Great importance was placed upon the king’s presence to his subjects, one of the

" Baumgartner, Radical Reactionaries, pp. 32-33, 56; J. Barbey, Etre roi: le roi et son gouvernement en France de Clovis ἃ Louis XVI (Paris, 1992), pp. 246-253; H. A. Lloyd, The State, France, and the Sixteenth Century (London, 1983), pp. 134-

144. 15 J. Garrisson, Henri IV (Paris, 1984), pp. 112-127.

16 D. Crouzet, ‘Le Règne de Henri III et la violence collective’, in: R. Sauzet, ed.,

Henri III et son temps (Paris, 1992), pp. 211-225 (pp. 211, 212, my transl.). 7 J. H. M. Salmon, Society in Crisis: France

in the Sixteenth Century (London,

1975), esp. pp. 207-211. 18 Salmon, Society, p. 196. 19 Baumgartner, Radical Reactionaries, pp. 30-34. 2 Salmon, Society, pp. 206-216. See also the chapter by D. Cowling in this volume, . 113-127.

fi N. M. Sutherland, ‘Henri III, The Guises and the Huguenots’, in: K. Cameron, ed.,

From Valois to Bourbon: Dynasty, State and Society in Early Modern France (Exeter, 1989), pp. 21-34 (p. 22).

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‘essential resources of royal authority’,” but, as Jacques-Auguste de Thou complained, Henri ‘never gets on a horse or shows himself to his people as his predecessors have always done’. Nor did he live up to the ideal of the roi guerrier (warrior king), an integral part of the French ideology of kingship.” Accused of engaging in homosexuality with his elegant mignons, he was perceived to lack virility and military prowess;*° moreover, he was repeatedly forced into humiliating capitulations. By the end of 1584, the League held the northern and eastern part of France, as well as most large towns in the country.” In the 1585 Treaty of Nemours, Henri III complied with many of the League’s demands, revoking all the former edicts of pacification, forbidding the practice of Protestant-

A new emphasis was placed upon loyalty and obedience to the king,” and upon recent and increasingly absolutist theories of monarchy.*> Meanwhile, Navarre strengthened his reputation as a strong leader and military com-

ism, and urging French Catholics not to recognise Navarre as his successor.

This did not restore the king’s authority or enable him to take over the Guise war-machine: he was obliged to surrender key towns to the League, and, furthermore, various League forces attempted to impose the Treaty of

Nemours by force, acting under the leadership of Henri de Guise rather than that of the king. In response, the union of Protestants and moderate Catholics was reborn under the leadership of Navarre, Condé, and Montmorency,

and Navarre criticised a peace made with ‘rebels’ at the expense of ‘obedient subjects’ and with ‘foreigners’ at the expense of ‘the princes of the

blood’.

Navarre’s supporters and the League engaged in a particularly intense

war of pamphlets in 1585. Moderate Catholics — including several powerful

nobles between 1585 and 1587 — flooded to Navarre’s side,” motivated by

a concern for France and the Gallicanism.*” Furthermore, monarchy, a growing number option, adopting ‘a sceptical

fundamental in the face considered and quietist

laws that defined it, as well as by of increasingly severe threats to strong royal power to be the safest form of stoic moral and political

thought (...) hostile to any justifications of political activism or resistance’.*!

2 J. Boutier, A. Dewerpe, and D. Nordman, Un Tour de France royal: le voyage de

Charles IX (1564-1566) (Paris, 1984), p. 293, my transl.. 33 Quoted and transl. in M. P. Holt, The French Wars of Religion, 1562-1629 (Cam-

bridge, 1995), p. 102.

# Sutherland, ‘Henri III’, pp. 23, 22. # Barbey, Etre roi, pp. 229-234.

° A. Jouanna, ‘Faveur et Favoris: l’exemple des mignons d'Henri III’, in: Sauzet, ed., Henri III, pp. 155-165.

mander.**

1587 saw Navarre’s famous victory over royal troops at Coutras. In the

same year a memo circulated between Leaguer towns which made loyalty to the king conditional upon his fighting heresy, while casting into grave doubt

whether he had done so; the conditions were being created for May 12, 1588, the Day of the Barricades, when the king would flee Paris, leaving the town and its institutions of government in the hands of the League. It is in this atmosphere that Joseph Duchesne published his Grand Miroir du monde. The poem is dedicated to Navarre, and the dedicatory epistle expresses confidence that the poem will be well received, citing the warm welcome accorded to the poet by Navarre upon his last visit to Gascony as

evidence that Navarre will also welcome his poem. This is an indication of

Duchesne’s attempt to gain a post with Navarre; he was successful in this attempt and thus able to describe himself in the 1593 edition of his poem as a ‘Conseiller et Medecin ordinaire du Roy’ (‘Adviser and Physician to the King’). In his 1587 preface to the reader, Duchesne stated that he had started the poem about three years earlier. He therefore wrote it in the years between 1584 and 1587, when royal authority was very much weakened by a reinvigorated League, and when Navarre was allying himself with royalty more closely than ever before and beginning to garner more support as heir to the throne. The sun-king While nature had both positive and negative examples for humanity, the heavens — as the most perfect part of the universe, seeming almost to partake of divinity — were to be emulated. In other words, if the king was similar to the sun, then it was incumbent upon him to be as similar to the sun as possible. Indeed, during the civil wars the activities of the Palace Academy and court festivities aimed to replicate cosmic harmony in the French kingdom and to reproduce the just monarchy.*° The natural-philosophical poetry

of Du Bartas and Duchesne explores how kings need to behave in order to realise this ideal: the similarity between sun and king is elaborated to show

?7 D. Buisseret, Henry IV (London, 1984), p. 17.

*8 Quoted and transl. in Buisseret, Henry IV, pp. 18-19. ” Buisseret, Henry IV, pp. 18-21.

30 Garrisson, Henri IV, pp. 123-125. *! Q. Skinner, ‘Montaigne and Stoicism’, in: The Foundations of Modern Political Thought (Cambridge, 1978), I, pp. 275-284 (p. 276).

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*2 Barbey, Etre roi, pp. 243-245. 33 Salmon, Society, pp. 216-218.

# Buisseret, Henry IV, pp. 15-25.

“5 Yates, The French Academies, esp. pp. 36-76, 118-122, 236-274.

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how kings might act in order to emulate, in their kingdoms, the heavenly relationships between the sun and the universe. The image of the sun had an obvious potential to glorify the king; it was, of course, commonly used for God. Unsurprisingly, then, it was to be

most famously associated with the absolutist king par excellence,

Louis

XIV. It became popular in France in the sixteenth century, the period during which concepts of absolute royal power were elaborated and negotiated.*° However, Du Bartas employs the comparison with the sun to castigate kings who fail to live up to their solar counterparts. Like his use of the body politic analogy, it is concerned with kings who do not take adequate care of all of their subjects, and contains thinly veiled criticism of the French king.

However, whereas the former focuses on royal massacre, the latter is con-

cerned with favouritism, with some subjects being looked after much better than others. Du Bartas does not explicitly name Henri III, but he contrasts the sun with ‘those kings’ who neglect their royal responsibilities by enriching a few members of their court at the expense of the rest of their people, and by spending all of their time in one region while ‘abandoning’ to ‘unwise princes’ the government of the rest of the provinces. This description certainly recalls contemporary perceptions of Henri ΠΠ᾿ 5 favours, both of opulence and of governorships. References to voluptez (‘sensual pleasures’) and

apas*’ further bring to mind the insinuations made about the sexual nature of Henri’s attraction to his favourites. ‘That sort of king’, Du Bartas suggests, fails to live up to the image of monarchy inscribed in the heavens,

since the sun makes its presence felt throughout its ‘kingdom’, visiting all areas within a day, and greeting its subjects: Je veux, o cler flambeau, chanter que tu n’es pas De ces rois qui, pipez par les flateurs apas D’un ou deux de leur court, tout un peuple apauvrissent A fin que de ses biens deux ou trois s’enrichissent; Qui, charmez des douceurs de mille voluptez,

Ne hantent, partiaux, qu’une de leurs citez,

36 Barbey, Etre roi, p. 191.

37 This term can have a sexual meaning, denoting the ‘female charms which excite male desire’, a sense which the Grand Robert dates to the beginning of the seven-

teenth century. In addition, the Robert Historique explains that the term already had the figurative meaning (as opposed to its literal meaning of the bait used to catch an

animal) of ‘ce qui attire’ (‘that which attracts’) as early as 1549; E. Huguet’s Dic-

tionnaire de la langue française du seiziéme siècle (7 vols, Paris, 1925-1967, I, pp. 252-253) explains, giving an example from love lyric, that the verb appaster could mean séduire (to seduce),

137

Et n’aymans qu’un pais, ἃ de mal-sages princes Abandonnent le soin du reste des provinces, Car a chaque pays dans l’espace d’un jour Tu donnes le bon-soir, tu donnes le bon-jour.*®

I want, oh bright flame, to sing that you are not one of / Those kings, who de-

ceived by the flattering lures / Of one or two of their court, impoverish a whole people, / So that two or three get richer from their wealth; / Who, charmed by

the sweetnesses of a thousand pleasures of the senses, / Frequent, being partial, only one of their towns, / And loving only one region, to unwise princes / Abandon

the care of the rest of their provinces, / For to every region in the

space of a day / You say good evening, you say good day.

After thus evoking the sun’s passage through the sky during the course

of a day, Du Bartas proceeds to describe the seasons (IV, 599-646). He admits that, at any one time of the year, some receive more of the sun’s heat

than others and thus experience spring while others experience autumn. However, the sun nonetheless bestows its bounty equally upon all areas of its ‘kingdom’: it varies its path each day so that the various areas receive increased amounts of the sun’s heat ‘in turn’ (‘de rang’ (600), ‘par ordre al-

ternatif” (602)). Duchesne’s discussion of the sun also depicts a ‘king’ travelling around his ‘kingdom’ and also describes how the seasons are dependent upon the sun’s gift of heat. Like Du Bartas, Duchesne refers to the constellations

through which the sun passes and, birds, Cupid, and the relationship whereas Du Bartas observes that turn, for Duchesne, spring is itself of the sun-king. Spring is a town and to which he grants particularly

in his description of spring, mentions the between Zephyrus and Flora. However, different places all experience spring in a place, and it gains the special attentions into which the king makes a royal entry, generous privileges:

Muse, mon cher souci, dicte-moy quelque vers, Pour pouvoir saluer |’ ceil beau de l’univers:

Uranie aide-moy ἃ celebrer l’entree Du beau Latonien 4 la face doree. Desja l’astré Mouton, au poil d’or tout frisé,

% La Sepmaine, ‘Day’ IV, ll. 585-594. This is the text from 1578. In the 1581 edi-

tion, the king abandoned ‘towns’ to ‘base people’ (‘des personnes viles’) rather than ‘provinces’ to ‘unwise princes’, a transformation probably motivated by disapproval

of the relatively low social status of the mignons; the sense of vil is social as well as moral, and could be opposed to noble. All translations are my own, and prioritise the goal of comprehension by the modern reader of English.

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KATHRYN BANKS A de belle verdeur son portail lambrissé,

Ou ses beaux estendarts, pour accroistre la joye, Tous semés de bourgeons, le Mois guerrier desploye, Tandis que ce grand Prince, une fois tous les ans, Passe par la cité de son aimé Printemps. Oyez chanter 16, voyez comme les rues Des champs, des bois, des prés, y sont toutes tendues

ROYAL AUTHORITY AND COMMONPLACE SIMILITUDES

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rior Month (March),* to increase the joy, / Unfurls its beautiful standards, all strewn with buds, / While this great Prince, once every year, / Passes through the town of his beloved Spring. / Hear them sing ‘Io’, see how the paths, / Of the fields, the woods, the meadows, there are all bedecked / With tapestries thick with blossom, with thousand upon thousand of flowers, / Enriched with

the variegation of their beautiful colours. / See how already they perfume the square / Of the dwelling of the Bull, through which he passes: / What honour

De tapis fleuronnés, de mille et mille fleurs,

will be done to him by the two Amycleans, / The two Twins lodged together,*!

Enrichis de l’esmail de leurs belles couleurs. Voyez comme desja on parfume la place Du logis du Taureau, dedans lequel il passe:

With them all the honour of their Town Hall: / Those who march just before the starry Brothers, / Are the light squadron of winged Minstrels, / Who, in place of

Quel honneur luy feront les deux Amycleans, Les deux Bessons couplés, eschevins du Printemps? Ils luy vont au devant en pompe et a la file,

Avec eux tout l’honneur de leur Maison de Ville: Ceux qui vont tout devant les Freres estoilés,

C’est l’escadron leger des Menestriers aislés, Qui, en lieu de haut-bois, de clairons, de trompettes,

Font retentir tout l’air avec leurs chansonnettes. Zephire vient apres, et s’attend, le mignard, Recevoir de sa Flore un gracieux regard. L’Amour marche ἃ costé, et avec eux apporte Le Poile tout brodé de fleurs de toute sorte. Voyez comme desia ils descouvrent leurs chefs,

Font hommage ἃ leur Roy, lui presentent les clefs De leur belle Cité, et le Roy, d’une veué Toute agreable aussi, ses bons sujets salué, Et, Prince liberal, confirme de nouveau

Les privileges deus de droict au Renouveau, Sur toute autre saison, lui ottroyant puissance D’accroistre, conserver, et de donner naissance

Aux choses d’ici bas : le tout signé du seing Des accords, des odeurs, et de l’air plus serain.

(Le Grand Miroir, pp. 128-130) Muse, my tender care, dictate me some verses, / So that I can greet the hand-

eschevins®? of Spring? / They march before him with ceremony and in line, /

oboes, of clarions, of trumpets, / Make all the air echo with their sweet songs. / Zephyrus comes next, and trusts, the charming one, / That he will receive from

his Flora a gracious gaze. / Love“ walks next to them, and with them carries / The ceremonial canopy all embroidered with all sorts of flowers. / See how already they uncover their heads, / Pay homage to their King, present him with the keys / To their beautiful Town, and the King, looking / Just as kindly (on them), greets his good subjects, / And, bountiful Prince, confirms again / The privileges due by right to Spring, / Over every other season, granting it the power / To increase, preserve, and give birth / To the things here below: all this signed with the signature / Of agreements, of scents, and of more peaceful air.

The privileges of sixteenth-century French towns varied, but those granted to the town of Spring seem particularly generous, giving it creative powers above any other season. Thus, whereas Du Bartas used the comparison between king and sun to suggest that all subjects and all places should be treated equally by the king, Duchesne uses it with precisely the opposite sense: it is ‘natural’, following the example of the heavens, that some towns have special privileges, just as spring is granted particular rights by the sun. These privileges are ‘due by right’ to the town of Spring. However, the king’s confirmation of privileges seems to reflect an equally positive attitude on the part of the town towards its king. Kings of-

ten did confirm a town’s privileges during a royal entry, as if in thanks for the welcome

accorded. However, during the civil wars, towns which had

failed to manifest sufficient loyalty to the king did not always have their privileges renewed; this had been the subject of protest in Paris, for exam-

some eye of the universe: / Urania help me to celebrate the entry / Of the hand-

some Latonian” with the golden face. / Already the starry Ram, with its golden

hair all curly / Has decorated its gate with beautiful greenery, / Where the war-

* Apollo.

40 The French word for March is mars which also, as in English, designates the Ro-

man god of war; hence the ‘warrior month’ signifies March. 41 Castor and Pollux, the constellation of Gemini.

a (In most northern towns) elected figures presided over by a maire. Cupid.

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ple, where the League dominated the Bureau of the Hôtel de Ville, the municipal government, and thus was able to thwart the king in his dealings

with the city.” It seems difficult to imagine, though, that the town of Spring could have been anything but entirely loyal. Royal entries were intended to demonstrate the ‘eagerness, respect and joy’ inspired by the king in his sub-

jects, and the citizens of Spring show ample evidence of these. The cele-

bration is explicitly a source of ‘joie’ (‘joy’), and the eagerness of the in-

habitants to welcome their king is demonstrated by the repetition of ‘déja’

(‘already’): they are keen to play their roles in the celebrations as soon as possible. The town authorities honour the king in the customary fashion, by processing before him and bearing a ceremonial canopy for him. They dem-

onstrate their respect by immediately removing their hats and paying homage to him, and their obedience is represented symbolically in the usual way; that is, by handing him the keys to their town. Finally, while French towns during royal entries were generously bedecked with triumphal arches, theatrical scenes, and other sorts of painted or sculpted decorations, Spring

is beautifully decorated with buds, flowers, colours, and scents, while the birds sing like minstrels (‘Menestriers aislés’).

In short, Spring forms a striking contrast to those towns which, in 1587, were already allied with the League and clearly challenging the king’s authority. While the League demanded the renewal of privileges, the example of Spring shows that privileges are confirmed for those ‘good subjects’ who eagerly welcome and obey their king; privileges cannot be demanded, it seems, but rather have to be earned. Just as, through its display of colours, buds, and scents, the spring celebrates most the sun’s presence, and has the special privilege of being more productive and creative than the other seasons, so towns that celebrate their king will be rewarded by him. Duchesne

does not say explicitly that disloyal towns will be less well rewarded, and

abandons his analogy with royalty when he discusses the sun’s role in the other seasons; nonetheless, whereas he aligns the privileges of obedient towns with spring’s power over life and growth, once the sun has ‘galloped’

through summer in five lines, the poet emphasises the association of autumn and winter with death and finitude (pp. 132-134).

Several lexical items in the passage bear meaning in relation to both na-

ture and politics, thus operating on both levels of the analogy. For example

‘entrée’ is both an astronomical term and a political one, considered proper

to denote the ‘entry’ of the sun into a constellation as well as that of a king

into a town. ‘Esmail’ and ‘fleuronnés’ arguably both evoke human decora-

“ Baumgartner, Radical Reactionaries, pp. 32-33, 42-43, 56; Barbey, Etre roi, pp: 246-253; Lloyd, The State, pp. 134-144. Boutier, Un Tour, pp. 293-294, my transl.

ROYAL AUTHORITY AND COMMONPLACE SIMILITUDES

141

tion as well as natural splendour: esmail referred both to the diverse colouring of flowers and also to enamel; fleuronner meant to blossom but also evokes fleuron which, according to Cotgrave,*° designated primarily a fleuron, a flower-shaped ornament used in architecture, which, of course, would

be a particularly pertinent symbol in a celebration of a French monarch. This trait is particularly strong in the final line quoted above. ‘Accords’ refer both to the harmonious relations that exist in the heavens — to cosmic harmony — and also to agreements or treaties, a meaning which is all the more present here given that the ‘accords’ are ‘signed’. Similarly ‘serain’ implies both a cosmos without meteorological disturbances and also the ‘peace’ obtaining between the king and the subjects of an obedient town like Spray: Odeur, which had a much wider range of meanings than scent,’’ could τοῖον to the way in which an action was interpreted, for example by the king,* and thus suggests here both the cosmic beauty of spring

and also political harmony. This lexical practice arguably strengthens the persuasive and epistemological weight of the comparison between sun and

king: the fact that ‘entrée’ designates both a royal entry and a solar one increases the sense of similarity between the two, the sense that they are essentially examples of the same phenomenon, but occurring in different domains; the term ‘accord’, by designating both cosmic harmony and political Sr sa reinforces the implication that the latter should mirror the former. Royal entries routinely made use of cosmic imagery and mythological heroes to elevate the king’s status. Duchesne’s analogy provides an account of how a king should behave in order properly to correspond to his cosmic counterpart. His suggestion that kings should reward obedience contrasts

with the French king’s reaction to the League: as Navarre put it, the 1585 Treaty of Nemours rewarded rebellion. Duchesne strongly suggests that — in

order to live up to the heavenly ideal of kingship — the king ought to ally himself with his ‘good subjects’ rather than his rebellious ones. Furthermore, Duchesne presents the sun-king making his presence felt to his sub-

jects. Royal entries reaffirmed royal authority and symbolically enacted the

4 R. Cotgrave, A Dictionarie of the French and English Tongues (London: Adam Islip, 1611), unpaginated. +7 Banks, Cosmos, pp. 51-55 (p. 54). 4% In one of his many letters to the king during 1570 and 1571, Navarre feared that his actions might be presented to the king in such a way as to make the latter receive them

‘de mauvaise

odeur’

(‘with a bad odeur’): quoted by Garrisson, Henri IV,

48. Du Bartas also — and often to a more extreme degree — uses lexical items which bear meaning in relation to both levels of a comparison, thus making it hard to dissociate the two levels (see Banks, Cosmos, chapt. 1-2).

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ROYAL AUTHORITY AND COMMONPLACE SIMILITUDES

(ideal) relationship between king and town. They had been extensively em-

the Grand Miroir (p. 413), is like calling the creature a ‘royal rat’, since Pharaoh was the title of the ancient Egyptian kings.”

ployed during a long royal tour of France in 1564-1566, intended to strengthen the position of a young Charles IX following the first of the civil wars; they also presented Navarre, a Protestant, as an integral part of the royal family.°° While, in 1587, Henri III seemed distant from his subjects and was singularly failing to exert his authority, Duchesne linguistically enacted the royal entry, along with its affirmation of royal power and of the

bond between king and subject; like the many reports of actual entries, the poem re-presents the already highly symbolic ritual but, in Duchesne’s case, in the absence of any ‘original’ event. For both Du Bartas and Duchesne,

then, the image of the travelling

sun-king provided a foil for the problematic functioning of monarchy in France.

Both

poets

employed

a rhetorical

strategy

dependent

upon

the

commonplace notion of a relationship of analogy and emulation between the earth and the heavens, appealing to the notion that the functioning of the heavens must be the right one, and that the human world should mirror the heavenly world. Both poets suggest that the king should make his presence felt in his kingdom. However, whereas Du Bartas is highly critical of the monarchy, in the late 1580s Duchesne was more concerned to bolster royal authority than to undermine it. He uses the same commonplace as Du Bartas in order to focus on the behaviour of subjects as well as kings, depicting at length the idealised obedient subjects of Spring. Thus Duchesne linguistically reaffirms the bond between monarch and subjects, representing it as

one of loyalty and obedience.

The ichneumon: the ruthless ‘roi guerrier’ and the enemies of the ‘bien public’ While the depiction of the sun affirms royal authority, that of the ichneumon (pp. 151-153) calls for it to be vigorously asserted. Comparing the king to an ichneumon was not as common as comparing him to the sun. Du Bartas had discussed the ichneumon without referring to kingship (Works, VI, pp. 235-266), and so Duchesne politicises a subject that was not political in the earlier poem. However, comparisons between human society and the animal world were common, as were, more specifically, those between kings and ‘royal’ animals, although dolphins, eagles, and bees were more

usual choices. Duchesne introduces the ichneumon as a ‘Rat Pharaonien’,

which, as Goulart observes in his commentary to the 1593 revised edition of

143

The ichneumon is a small animal closely related to the mongoose. Yet,

in Pliny’s account in his Natural History (VIII. 36-37), it cleverly defeated both snakes and crocodiles; it created a ‘coat of armour’ from mud in order to withstand the snake’s attack, and it darted down the sleeping crocodile’s

throat in order to consume the larger animal from within.” In Duchesne’s Grand Miroir, the ichneumon, like the sun, is presented as one of nature’s

positive examples. The ichneumon, as depicted by Duchesne, is a brave fighter and a skilful ‘military’ tactician. The poet tells us that he has chosen to end book 4 with this creature, since any retreat should be led by ‘le chef plus vaillant’ (‘the most valiant leader’). Duchesne makes use of the notion of a creature able, through cunning strategy, to defeat animals much bigger than itself. He contrasts the small size of the ichneumon with the greatness

of its soul or spirit, apostrophising the ‘petit animal magnanime de cœur’ (‘small animal great in soul’).°’ This ‘royal’ animal is celebrated for its ability to defeat forces apparently greater than itself, if not through might then through diligence (‘Si non avec la force, avec son industrie’), and employing wisdom (‘sagesse’) and bravery (‘brave cœur’).

On the other hand, the ichneumon is described as ‘cruel’ and depicted

as ruthless and determined. It seeks out and destroys the eggs of its enemies, as well as waging war upon older members of the species; it gnaws snakes’

heads or drowns them, and kills the crocodile by eating its liver and drinking its blood until it is entirely hollow. Moreover, the ichneumon takes pleasure in defeating its enemies, ‘feasting’ on the crocodile’s liver and ‘joyfully making merry’ as it consumes its body from within.” However, all this violence is in a worthy cause: Duchesne tells us that snakes and crocodiles would otherwise make Egypt uninhabitable. Duchesne hints throughout this discussion that the behaviour of this ‘royal’ animal has — or should have — a human equivalent. The ichneumon °! The ichneumon was often called a rat de Pharaon, for example in Jacques Amyot’s popular translation of Plutarch’s Moralia; however, Duchesne’s slightly different formulation potentially has rather different connotations, as Goulart highlights.

°? See also Plutarch’s Moralia, 966d and Aristotle’s 3 ‘Magnanime’ meant ‘noble-souled’ (whereas its Its meaning was thus closer to that of its Latin root appears to have this Latin root in mind here, given

Historia animalium, 612a 16. modern meaning is ‘generous’). (magnus animus), and Duchesne the juxtaposition of the ichneu-

mon’s small size with its ‘coeur’ described as ‘magnanime’.

Ξ ‘[S]e festoye, / A ton mortel regret des lobes de ton foye, / S’abbruve de ton sang,

et s’esgaye, joyeux, / Dans ton corps, jusqu’à tant qu’il l’ait rendu tout creux” °0 Garrisson, Henri I V, pp. 32-34.

(p. 152).

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is described as acting ‘pour le bien du public’ (‘for the public good’), an expression which would more normally be used with reference to human society than the natural world, and which indeed was frequently used precisely to justify recourse to arms during the wars, being employed by both the League and supporters of Navarre in the mid-1580s.*° Furthermore, the ichneumon’s violent action sounds very much like military activity, since Duchesne consistently uses vocabulary pertinent to human battle: ‘livrant

encor bataille’ (‘engaging battle again’); ‘l’attache, et l’assaut’ (‘attacks him and assails him’); ‘la sentinelle’ (‘the sentry’); ‘s’armant’ (‘arming himself); ‘soudain il eschelle / Le fort Crocodilois, et se fourre dedans / Par

l’huis plus dissolu’ (‘suddenly he scales the Crocodilian fort, and penetrates it by the loosest gate’); ‘donnant ainsi l’alarme’ (‘raising the alarm’); ‘ce

nouvel assaut’ (‘this new attack’). Furthermore, not only is the ichneumon anthropomorphised as a courageous leader (‘le chef plus vaillant’), as we

have seen, but also the crocodile is represented anthropomorphically as ‘ce grand Brigand d’aguet’ (‘this huge Brigand on the look-out’); more generally, crocodiles and snakes were two of many animals used by authors of pamphlets to characterise their opponents.* Thus, by celebrating the actions of this ‘royal’ animal, Duchesne provides an ideal portrait of a king. The king, Duchesne suggests, should be a brave and skilful military leader, seeking out enemies of the public good in order to destroy them ruthlessly and even joyfully. With bravery, determination, and military cunning, the poet implies, the king can defeat even ene-

mies who appear to be more powerful than himself. The powerful enemies

of the king who spring readily to mind are of course the League, who, from the point of view of Navarre, and of many Protestants or Catholics of a

politique” persuasion, were indeed enemies of the king and of the public

good. The ideal portrait of a king relentlessly pursuing his clever military strategies differs strikingly from contemporary perceptions of Henri III as a weak leader whose lack of coherent long-term strategy and military skill enabled the League to grow rapidly in strength and effectively to call the shots: whereas Henri III seemed to ignore problems until forced defensively into action, the ichneumon attacks first as a preventative measure. The king

of Navarre and heir to the throne of France, on the other hand, had military

ROYAL AUTHORITY AND COMMONPLACE SIMILITUDES

145

skills and qualities which made him fit the image of the ichneumon much more satisfactorily.

Duchesne then proceeds, in the concluding lines of book 4, to make his lesson for kings explicit, stating that they should follow the ichneumon’s example by banishing trouble-makers from their realms. He also relates the lesson to France specifically, saying that such an action could provide a so-

lution to France’s problems. Furthermore, he indicates more clearly the identity of the ‘crocodiles’ and ‘snakes’ in France: Vous devriez imiter, 6 vous Rois, et vous Princes, L’ichneumon genereux, chassans de vos provinces, Ceste espece d’Aspics que l’on nomme Cracheurs,

Ces contempteurs de Dieu, tous ces blasphemateurs Qui crachent vers le ciel, une poison meschante Qui sort à tout propos de leur bouche puante: Vous devriez depeupler, de larrons, de meurtriers, De brigands inhumains, d’avares, usuriers, De gens aime-procés, trestous vrais Crocodiles, Vos forests, vos chemins, vos palais et vos villes. Ainsi les belles fleurs de l’immortalité Couronneroyent vos fronts, ainsi de mon costé

J’aurois encor un jour de revoir esperance, Avec plus de seurté le repos de la France. You should imitate, o Kings and Princes, / The noble ichneumon, chasing from

your provinces, / That species of Asp which one calls Spitters, / Those contemptors of God, all those blasphemers / Who spit towards the heavens an evil poison / Which comes out in relation to all subjects from their stinking mouths: / You should rid of thieves, of murderers, / Of inhuman brigands, of the greedy,

moneylenders, / Of lovers of law-courts, just so many true Crocodiles, / Your forests, your paths, your palaces, and your towns. / Thus the beautiful flowers of immortality / Would crown your foreheads, thus as for me / I would one day

have again the hope / To see again with more security the respite of France. Duchesne states quite explicitly that France would benefit from a king

who shared the qualities of the ichneumon, and used them to defeat France’s enemies (as defined by Duchesne). His use of the conditional (‘I

” A. Jouanna, Le Devoir de révolte: la noblesse française et la gestation de l'État moderne, 1559-1661 (Paris, 1989), esp. pp. 192-193. 1. Pineaux, ‘La Métaphore animale dans quelques pamphlets du XVI° siècle’, in: Le Pamphlet en France au XVT siècle (Paris, 1983), pp. 35-45.

would have (...) hope’) implies that France does not yet have such a king.

dubbed politiques by the most militant Catholics, a term intended to suggest that they placed political considerations above religion.

shared the ichneumon’s ‘military’ skills, the ideal of kingship promoted by the poet is one which would support his patron’s suitability for the throne.

”7 Those who emphasised the need to ensure the survival of the commonwealth,

He thus provides an account of how Henri III — and perhaps his successor — ought to behave

in order to alleviate France’s

problems.

Since Navarre

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ROYAL AUTHORITY AND COMMONPLACE SIMILITUDES

The argument that France requires a warrior king could weigh in the balance for Catholics wavering between the needs of the Catholic religion and

the need for a strong monarch.

Duchesne wrote these lines amid a rhetorical struggle to determine who was acting in the interests of the public good and who was undermining it. In 1585, Henri III had promised to rid France of Protestants, but Duchesne’s analogy suggests that the real enemies of the public good — those who really deserve to be banished from the kingdom — are those who resemble croco-

diles and ‘spitting’ snakes (‘Cracheurs’), those committing violent crimes or ‘spitting’ blasphemy. More precisely, the ‘crocodiles’ and ‘snakes’ include

‘blasphemers’ who ‘spit poison’, calling to mind the acrimonious words issuing from Leaguer pulpits and propaganda,** perceived, for example by Navarre, as undermining religion as well as the king. The ‘thieves’, ‘murderers’, and ‘brigands’ recall those romping lawlessly through France, and the adjective ‘inhuman’ applied to the brigands voices the strong contemporary perception of them as inhuman predators, particularly thanks to the

analogy with crocodiles, which, earlier in the discussion, were anthropomorphised precisely as ‘brigands’; murderers and thieves could also bring to mind those attempting to enforce the Nemours treaty. Duchesne’ s ‘greedy

people’ could evoke the fiscal officers and money-lenders making huge

profits, or perhaps

the king’s

favourites

receiving

extravagant

gifts; the

money-lenders are also given an individual mention. Ridding the French territory of the financiers and usurers might have seemed to Duchesne all

the more appropriate, given that many were Italian.” As for the lovers of law-courts, it was a common complaint that, thanks to the open sale of judi-

cial office, France had too many lawyers and too much litigation , and Duchesne may have been aware of the strong presence of dissatisfie d lawyers in Catholic urban agitation.‘! In short, Duchesne suggests that the king could solve France’s troubles by strongly exerting his authori ty over all of these ‘true crocodiles’.

147

Conclusions 1. Commonplaces and authority: similitudes as creative ‘thinking tools’ The depictions of kingship by Du Bartas and Duchesne are both dependent

upon the same underlying analogy between nature and society. More specifically, both poets discuss the king’s relationship with his kingdom by depicting the sun travelling through the constellations and ordering the seasons. Both poets find it helpful to depict the ideal monarch greeting his sub-

jects and making his presence felt. However, whereas, for Du Bartas, the

example of the sun implies that the king should govern over all areas of his kingdom in the same way and treat all his subjects equally, for Duchesne solar monarchy suggests that kings employ discernment in order to treat subjects appropriately in accordance with their merits. Furthermore, while the loyal inhabitants of Spring should be rewarded, another example from

the natural world demonstrates that enemies of the king and of the public

good — those powerful enemies who ‘spit’ poison and engage in inhuman violence — should be decisively quashed, with perseverance, bravery, cunning, and perhaps even cruelty and joy; by contrast, in the aftermath of the St. Bartholomew’s Day Massacre, Du Bartas had used an example from the natural world to warn against the propensity of kings violently to crush their subjects, and thus to suggest (with the Protestant monarchomachs) that royal power should be reined in.” Therefore, while commonplace analogies might (in some discourses at

least) have set the parameters of political debate, they did not bear a fixed meaning that rendered them useful only to proponents of a particular view. While analogies undoubtedly shaped interpretations of events, conversely they were themselves shaped by (contemporary apprehensions of) events. In the terms of Kuhnian paradigms,” similitudes between nature and society shaped the sorts of ‘questions’ asked about royal authority in the final decades of the sixteenth century but did not shape the ‘answers’ found. Similitudes were part of the linguistic outillage mental of late sixteenth-century

°8 Most of the Parisian clergy, according to contem porary accounts, actively supported the Paris Sixteen (the most powerful cell of the urban League); they comprised

its ‘most effective weapon’, thanks to their power over popular opinion (Baumgartner, Radical Reactionaries, pp. 41-42). See the chapter by D. Cowling in this volume, pp. 113-127. %0 Salmon, Society, pp. 78-79.

6: Salmon, Society, pp. 247-257; idem, ‘The Paris Sixteen, 1584-1594: The Social Analysis of a Revolutionary Movement’, in: J. H. M. Salmon, Renaissance and Re-

volt: Essays in the Intellectual and Social History of Early Modern France (Cam-

bridge, 1987), pp. 235-266.

“ Banks, Cosmos, chapt. 2, pp. 64-80. ‘3 In the history of science, T. S. Kuhn’s concept of the ‘paradigm’ has been used to denote a set of basic beliefs which determine the terms of the questions posed at a given moment. See Kuhn’s Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago, 21970) and, for an overview of the varied notions of the ‘paradigm’, J. Golinski, Making Natural Knowledge: Constructivism and the History of Science (Cambridge, 1998), pp. 1427.

ER

ἘΣ i Sih ji aa

SSS erst

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France, but this outillage mental shaped a framework of conceptual possibilities rather than defining one of rigid concepts.™

As Ann Moss states in this volume, commonplaces ‘constituted in effect the cultural matrix of early modern Europe’, yet could be exploited ‘to manoeuvre authoritative argument’ against commonly-held opinions (pp. 56). In the case of similitudes, as distinct from other sorts of commonplace,

emphasis should be placed upon the latter, that is, upon their creative potential in the service of a variety of contradictory opinions: while any commonplace might be used in diverse and contradictory ways, the similitude seems particularly rich in creative potential. Indeed, in her discussion of the predilection of preachers for the similitude, Moss states that similitudes provided an ‘abundance of opportunities to diversify’ (p. 11). Thus similitudes may be more versatile than the metaphors which they develop. Where, as in the depiction of the sun-king, the implications of an analogy are unfolded at some length, diverse arguments can be constructed, for example about kingship. In other words, ‘glossing’ a similarity enabled a writer to some extent to determine its interpretation rather than be bound by the interpretations which were most commonly applied to it. 2. Analogy and genre: politics in natural-philosophical poetry In natural-philosophical poetry, political comment appeared in a discussion of the cosmos and thus avoided ‘censorship’, not only in any literal sense, but also in that readers were not forewarned of the political content they

would encounter. Political arguments grounded in nature, while they were

ROYAL AUTHORITY AND COMMONPLACE

considered imagistic.® epic, and length and

SIMILITUDES

149

a paradigm of a style often termed ‘baroque’ — is flamboyantly Furthermore, he considered that his poem was, in part, an used comparisons in the epic style, that is, developing them at focussing as much on the subject used for comparison (for ex-

ample, the king) as on the initial subject-matter (the sun). In addition, Du

Bartas was inventive in his use of epic comparisons, whereas some other poets, such as Du Bartas’s very well-known contemporary, Ronsard, tended to draw their epic comparisons directly from ancient texts.°’ Duchesne often shares Du Bartas’s stylistic practice with relation to comparisons. Thus, thanks to the generic specificities of their use of similitudes, Du Bartas and Duchesne are able to explore at length — and, crucially, to shape — the implications of the commonplace analogies employed. As a result, Du Bartas voiced an original and polemical formulation of the body politic, and Duchesne similarly used comparisons between the king, the sun, and a royal animal in innovative and provocative ways. Thanks to, first, a particular po-

etic style and, secondly, commonplace analogies based on nature, politics was explored in natural-philosophical poetry, a departure from more usual genres of political commentary. Du Bartas and Duchesne apparently hope that poetry might play some role in achieving societal harmony, not simply

through the musicality of poetry — considered by some as a potential means of facilitating the descent of heavenly harmony upon France® — but rather through the provision of specific lessons as to how harmony can be achieved; in the fraught final decades of the sixteenth century, an important

part of this was negotiating the relationship between kings and subjects.

used in other discourses, also gained potency from their inclusion within a

genre which insistently presents the natural world as a source of lessons for humanity, as both an image of the human world and an ideal to which it

should aspire: as we have seen, this is both stated explicitly and implied through the use of lexical items which bear meaning in relation to both levels of an analogy. Moreover, the potentially very powerful role played by the development of similitudes means that the genre of poetry inaugurated by the Sepmaine can perform a particularly interesting function in relation to commonplaces and authority. Of course analogies between the natural and the

political were precisely commonplace, and were by no means employed only in Christian natural-philosophical poetry. However, this particular genre invited the detailed ‘unfolding’ of similitudes. Du Bartas’s language — % See L. Febvre’s Problème de l'incroyance au XVIe siècle (Paris, 1942) and, on outillage mental as productive as well as restrictive, Banks, Cosmos and Image, pp. 4, 23n, and passim.

On images in the ‘baroque’ aesthetic, see A. Baiche, La Naissance du baroque français: poésie et image de la Pléiade à Jean de La Ceppéde (Toulouse, 1976); W.

Floeck, Esthétique de la diversité: pour une histoire du baroque littéraire en France, transl. by G. Floret (Paris, 1989), pp. 80-141. On Du Bartas’s relation to this aesthetic, see B. Braunrot, Imagination poétique chez Du Bartas: éléments de sensibilité baroque dans la Création du Monde (Chapel Hill, 1973).

96 Brief Advertissement sur sa première et seconde Sepmaine (1584), in Works, I,

pp. 218-224 (p. 220).

A. E. Creore, ‘Ronsard, Du Bartas, and the Homeric Comparison’, Comparative Literature 3 (1951), pp. 152-159.

°8 Yates, The French Academies, pp. 36-76. Duchesne himself discusses the power

of harmony, and wishes he knew a song which could affect the ‘deaf atheists’ (Le

Grand Miroir, pp. 130-131).

TO TAKE IN A TOWN WITH GENTLE WORDS' THE USE OF LOCI IN THE ANTWERP ENTRY OF 1549

Stijn Bussels A striking application of Ann Moss’s understanding of the early modern

concept of commonplace, as discussed in her chapter in this volume, can be found in the joyous entry of Charles V and his son and successor Philip into

Antwerp on September 10, 1549. The town clerk and renowned humanist Cornelius Grapheus was responsible for the inscriptions on the triumphal arches and tableaux vivants. It is not entirely certain that Grapheus collected commonplaces or consulted commonplace books, but he definitely used phrases from authoritative authors as subject-matter for the inscriptions on the tableaux vivants and triumphal arches alongside the entry route.

In a large inscription on a tableau where Philip was at the centre of attention, for example, the prince was welcomed as follows: ‘At last you are come, yet now we may presently behold your long desired face’? Origi-

nally, these verses come from Aeneas’s father, Anchises. In the sixth book

of Virgil’s Aeneid, the Trojan hero descends greeted by his departed father. Although this moved from the joyous entry — certainly, the no interest in resembling the underworld — the

into the Underworld and is particular context is far remetropolis of commerce had phrasing was designed to fit

the important occasion. The use of verses derived from the famous Roman

poet created a high-level communication between the educated Antwerp burghers and the Habsburgs. As Moss points out, it will have created a

bond, as everyone who could understand the reference must have felt part of

' These words come from Shakespeare’s Coriolanus of c.1607 (III. ii. 59) and are

spoken by Volumnia to prompt her son and brilliant general Coriolanus to make maximum use of eloquence to convince the citizens of Rome, who are in revolt against him, of his integrity and military and political competence. ? This inscription on an Antwerp tableau was originally in Latin, but was translated into Dutch by Grapheus in the official account of the entry: ‘Emmer sydij commen,

men mach doch nu, u langbegeerde aensicht tegewoirdichlijck aenschouwen’ (C. Grapheus, De seer wonderlijcke schoone Triumphelijcke Incompst, van den hoogh-

mogenden Prince Philips, Prince van Spaignen, Caroli des vijfden, Keysers sone (...) inde stads van Antwerpen, Anno M.LLLLL.XLJX (Antwerp, 1550), fol. E*). The

English transl. of this account is mine.

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‘a community of shared points of reference, core texts, and common practice’?

the civic representatives. They walked through the centre following an official entry route decorated with tableaux vivants and triumphal arches that honoured symbolically the Habsburgs, the city, and their renewed relationship. The following day, the prince swore the oaths of the Joyous Entry. Finally, this union between the future monarch and the city was celebrated with banquets, tournaments, and firework displays. For several years, the Spanish nobleman and humanist Juan Christoval Calvete de Estrella recorded this journey. In his account, Εἰ Felicissimo

central to this volume is of interest not only in terms of its strict definition

within the context of the grammar class, but also in the discussion representations. I will therefore concentrate on the antique concept which can be used as a synonym of ‘commonplace’, but also has tional meaning of dialectical strategy, part of a series of standard that offer persuasive arguments.

of visual of locus, the addiquestions

By relating both these senses of /ocus to the Antwerp entry, I will focus

on the specific way the organising municipality, the magistraat, tried to reinforce the established order by repeating

its central message

about the

competence of the Habsburgs and itself. Within this discourse, I will analyse the invention and the elocution of the arguments and finally, in order to see how the arguments were delivered, I will also look at the performance. Taking my point of departure for these three steps in the creation process of the entry, which can be linked to the rhetorical phases of inventio, elocutio,

and actio, I will try to demonstrate that the municipality addressed the audience at different levels of understanding. However, let us first place the entry in a broader context and start one year earlier, when Philip and his suite embarked in Barcelona, with Genoa as their final destination, in order to begin a solemn tour through the territories under indirect and direct Habsburg command. After visiting many cities in northern Italy and some in the Holy Roman Empire, Philip met his father in the capital of the Netherlands, Brussels. Together they visited the most important cities in the Netherlands. In the first place, they aimed for Louvain. There the prince had to take the oaths of the Blijde Inkomst (‘Joyous Entry’). These oaths dated back to 1356, when Johanna of Brabant had to acknowledge the rights of the Brabantine cities of Louvain, Brussels, Ant-

werp, ’s-Hertogenbosch, Nijvel, and Tienen.* Two hundred years later, the oaths had been extended to the Netherlands as a whole. Despite this broad authority, the oaths had to be repeated in every important city. The political ritual, organised and largely financed by the municipalities, was similar everywhere. Outside the gates, the prince had to swear to respect the civic

privileges. Thereafter, the keys of the town were handed over to Philip.

Then he, his father, and their retinue processed into the city, preceded by 3 A. Moss, chapter in this volume, pp. 1-17 (p. 6). * A. Vranckx, ‘De Blijde Inkomst van 3 januari 1356 en ons publiek recht’, Standen en Landen 16 (1958), pp. 145-164 (p. 153).

Viaje del muy Alto y muy Poderoso Principe Don Phelippe, he describes the

Antwerp entry at greatest length and with greatest enthusiasm.* This cannot

come as a surprise, knowing that Antwerp was the most important trading

city of the Netherlands, if not of northern Europe. This extraordinary status can also be seen in a second account by the hand of the chief organiser, the Antwerp town clerk and renowned humanist Cornelius Grapheus. In his introduction to the official account, De seer wonderlijcke schoone

Triumphelijcke Incompst van (...) Prince Philips (...) inde stads van Antwerpen, he proudly emphasises the exceptional display of wealth and the

high tempo in which everything was arranged.° The accompanying pictures of the tableaux vivants and triumphal arches, designed by the Renaissance artist Pieter Coecke van Aelst, make Grapheus’s pride comprehensible. In his introduction, Grapheus also emphasises the diverse group of people that gathered to see the prince and the emperor: ‘(...) daer [Antwerpen] gecommen sijnde (...) de geheele stadt, de overste, de gemeynte, de edelen, de coopluyden, de natien, ende alderley vremdelingen der geheelder werelt tot deser stadt toe vloeyende, so te voete, so te peerde,

d

This chapter, however, will not use this strict understanding of the con-

cept of commonplace. By contrast, I want to change the focus and concentrate on non-verbal communication. I intend to demonstrate that the concept

153

boven maten costelijck, boven maten chierlijck’ (‘[When the prince arrived

in Antwerp] the whole city, the rulers, the community, the noblemen, the

traders,

the trade nations,

and

divers

foreigners

from

the whole

world

flowed together on foot or on horseback, all richly and elegantly dressed’). It goes without saying that a royal entry was not an everyday occurrence.

For the average citizen, it could be the chance of a lifetime to witness the glamour of the highest ranks in society and to see the glitter of the

ephemeral

constructions

and

spectacles.

Therefore,

time

and

again,

thousands of people assembled to gape in admiration at the impressive

> For an overview of all the ephemeral constructions of the Antwerp entry, see W.

Kuyper, The Triumphant Entry of Renaissance Architecture into the Netherlands:

The Joyeuse Entrée of Philip of Spain into Antwerp in 1549, Renaissance and Mannerist Architecture in the Low Countries from 1530 to 1630 (Alphen aan den Rijn, 1994), chapt. 1; S. Bussels, Van macht en mensenwerk: retorica als performatieve

strategie in de Antwerpse intocht van 1549 (Ghent, unpublished PhD, 2005). ° Grapheus, Triumphelijcke Incompst, fol. Aiii’. ? Ibidem.

_

152

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display of wealth. In this, the Antwerp entry was surely no exception. Moreover, the Antwerp crowd did not escape the notice of Calvete de

(...) for words influence nobody but the person allied to the speaker by sharing the same language, and clever ideas frequently outfly the understanding of people who are not clever, whereas delivery, which gives the emotion of the mind expression, influences everybody, for the same emotions are felt by all people

Estrella, who was nevertheless well used to attending events that generated

great public interest.® Although the mass of onlookers is noticed by both Grapheus and Calvete de Estrella, the Antwerp entry cannot be seen as an uncomplicated mass medium. Admittedly, many people attended the spectacle, but the question can be asked if most people were able to understand what they saw. The participation of Grapheus as chief organiser demonstrates that the humanist influence on the programme was vital. The town clerk is associated with Erasmus as his friend and follower.’ Later in this chapter, I will deal with Erasmus’s influence on the entry in more detail. Here I can already indicate that one needed a humanist education to understand thor-

oughly the complex antique allegories, heroes, and gods on the tableaux vivants and the triumphal arches. Many people will only have noticed the glitter and glamour surrounding the entry. Did they, however, fail to notice the entire civic discourse about the Habsburgs, the city, and their relationship? We may turn for an answer to classical rhetoric, for it had to deal with the same problem of communication and public differentiation. An orator had to be able to convince professional judges and politicians, but also a

jury of common citizens. Therefore, the handbooks of rhetoric suggest incorporating many layers of persuasion into one discourse. Cicero, for example, writes in his De oratore (55 BC) that teaching (docere) is confined

to those who share the knowledge of the orator, but that moving (movere)

and pleasing (delectare) have a far broader range, for these rhetorical tasks have their effect on the masses and even on strangers: (...) verba enim neminem movent nisi cum qui eiusdem linguae societate coni-

155

and they both recognize them in others and manifest them in themselves by the same marks. (III. lix. 223)!°

Using work quite point

this concept, I will now illustrate the different levels of persuasion at in the Antwerp entry. This implies that our central point of view is unusual. Traditional research on royal entries starts from an aesthetic of view or an iconographical-political analysis. By focussing on the

entry’s ability to reach a broad audience, I want not only to examine the

figures on the tableaux vivants and the triumphal arches, but also to look at the entry as a public spectacle. There must have been, for example, much attention paid to the living presence of the actors on the stages and certainly to or Habsburgs in the procession, but also to the festivities after the en-

try.!

In order to discuss the different ways in which the Antwerp entry responded to the tasks of docere, movere, and delectare, | will approach the entry as a /audatio for the Habsburgs and Antwerp, through which the municipality took the opportunity to strengthen the established order. In doing

so, I will draw on the classical theory of rhetoric and look at the arguments

that were put forward in the rhetorical phase of the inventio, and at how these arguments were phrased in the elocutio and performed in the actio. This method of analysis is not only an interesting 21‘-century method for investigating the broad reach of an early modern discourse. As we will soon see, it was also a popular early modern heuristic device.

unctus est, sententiaeque saepe acutae non acutorum hominum sensus praetervolant: actio, quae prae se motum animi fert, omnes movet; eisdem enim om-

nium animi motibus concitantur et eos eisdem notis et in aliis agnoscunt et in se ipsi indicant.

!° Cicero, De oratore, Book III (...), transl. by H. Rackham (Cambridge, MA, 1942),

* J.C. Calvete de Estrella, El Felicissimo Viaje del muy Alto y muy Poderoso Prin-

cipe Don Phelippe, Hijo del Emperador Don Carlos Quinto Maximo, desde España

a sus tierras de la baxa Alemaña: con la descripcion de todos los Estados de Brabante y Flandes (Antwerp, 1552), fol. 288".

°M. De Schepper, ‘Humanism and humanists’, in: J. Van Der Stock, ed., Antwerp:

Story of a Metropolis, 16". 17° Century (Gent, 1993), pp. 97-103; F. Prims, ‘Het eigen werk van Cornelis Grapheus ( 1482-1558)’, Antwerpiensia 12 (1938), pp. 172184.

. 178-179. Pesce, for a similar focus, M. A. Meadow, ‘Ritual and Civic Identity in Philip Ils 1549 Antwerp Blijde Incompst’, in: R. Falkenburg, J. De Jong, M. Meadow, B. Ramakers and H. Roodenburg, eds, Hof., Staat- en Stadsceremonies, Nederlands

Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek 49 (1999), pp. 37-67; W. Eisler, ‘Celestial Harmonies and

Hapsburg Rule: Levels of Meaning in a Triumphal Arch for Philip II in Antwerp,

1549’, in: B. Wisch and S. Scott Munshower, eds, ‘A// the World’s a Stage...’: Art

and Pageantry in the Renaissance and Baroque, part 1: Triumphal Celebrations and the Rituals of Statecraft (Pennsylvania, 1990), pp. 333-356; Bussels, Van macht en mensenwerk.

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‘Loci’ as standard questions

The orator first had to go through the inventio-phase to find appropriate arguments for his discourse. The handbooks of rhetoric helped him by providing a series of standard questions, the so-called /oci (or the Greek topoi),

which the orator had to go through. Every question that could be answered

yielded him a new argument. According to Bart Ramakers, the highly influ-

ential amateur actors and dramatists of the so-called Chambers of Rhetoric used this antique frame of /oci to substantiate the message their plays con-

veyed.'?

In his De

inventione dialectica of 1479,

Rudolf Agricola

also

started from the rhetorical /oci. He invented a device of twenty-four questions as a universally valid parameter for every kind of scientific research, subsequently further elaborated by, among others, Erasmus, Melanchthon,

Vives, Sturm, and Ramus.'* For our purposes, it is interesting to look at the specific questions the

orator had to ask in order to honour someone in a /audatio. In his Institutio

oratoria (94-95 AD), Quintilian gives the most elaborated precepts (III. vii.

10-15). He distinguishes three different clusters: /oci that aim at arguments dealing with the time before the central figure of the speech lived, such as his/her descent; /oci that provide arguments concerning his/her body, such as beauty and power; and /oci that supply arguments about his/her character and career. Although the organising municipality also praised Charles and Antwerp, I want to concentrate here on the filling of the /oci with arguments in honour of Philip, who had to be cogently introduced, honoured, and legitimised as future monarch. Having said that, the first cluster of loci already praises both Philip and Charles, for the organisers could evidently '? B. Ramakers, ‘Tonen en betogen: de dramaturgie van de Rotterdamse spelen van

1561’, in: ‘De rhetorijcke in vele manieren’, Spiegel der Letteren 43 (2001), p. 182. Cf. A. C. G. Fleurkens, Stichtelijke lust: de toneelspelen van D. V. Coornhert (1522-

1590) als middelen tot het geven van morele instructie (Hilversum, 1994), pp. 65-

157

honour them both by linking the prince’s descent with his father’s merits.'* Moreover, by so doing, the municipality underlined the logic of continuity and with the same argument even legitimised its own power. Just as there was a succession from father to son in the Habsburg context, the same mighty families were in power in Antwerp. This dynastic argument was seen many times throughout the entry and most clearly on a tableau vivant

in which Philip stood next to his Burgundian-Habsburg ancestors (Ill. 1). Actors represented Philip the Good, Charles the Bold, Mary of Burgundy, Maximilian of Austria, Philip the Handsome, and Charles V. An inscription underscored the fact that Charles’s succession by Philip would not change relations with the city: ‘Met hoe ongeloofelijcker gunste, uwe voervaderen, grootmachtige Prince, de stadt Antwerpen altoos bemint, gheholpen, ende vervordert hebben, is eenen iegelijcken wel bekent. (...) het welcke sy met ongetwijfelder hopen betroudt, dat ghy hun voetstappen navolgende desgelijcx oock doen sult’ (‘It is well known to everyone, powerful Prince, that

your ancestors have always loved, helped, and promoted Antwerp with unbelievable grace. (...) So Antwerp trusts with indubitable hope that you will

follow their example’).’° The specific succession from Charles to Philip, on the other hand, is clearly visualised in the triumphal arch that the Spanish nation had erected along the entry route (Ill. 2). A round temple of Janus constituted the centre

of attention. On the left, a statue of Augustus closed a door, in keeping with Roman tradition, in order to indicate a time of peace. On the right, statues of

Charles and Philip did the same. In the first place, this showed that the Habsburgs could be compared with the most prominent Roman emperor

(see below). Secondly, this made it clear that Charles ruled peacefully (this was a humanist dream and far from reality) and that it was believed that his

future successor would do the same. To convey this idea, the father was leading his son by the hand with paternal solicitude and was even looking back to make sure that the youngster was able to follow in his wake.

117.

M. Cogan, ‘Rodolphus Agricola and the Semantic Revolutions of the History of

Invention’, Rhetorica 2 (1984), pp. 163-194; T. M. Conley, Rhetoric in the Euro-

pean Tradition (Chicago/London, 1990), pp. 124-132; P. Desan, Naissance de la méthode (Machiavel, La Ramée, Bodin, Montaigne, Descartes) (Paris, 1987), p. 14; J.-C. Margolin,

‘L’Apogée

de la rhétorique humaniste

(1500-1536),

in: M.

Fu-

maroli, ed., Histoire de la rhétorique dans l'Europe moderne, 1450-1950 (Paris, 1999), pp. 198-209; J. Monfasani, ‘Humanism and Rhetoric’, in: A. Rabil Jr., ed., Renaissance Humanism: Foundations, Forms, and Legacy (Philadelphia, 1988), pp. 196-197; W. Schmidt-Biggemann, Topica Universalis: eine Modellgeschichte humanistischer und barocker Wissenschaft (Hamburg, 1983), pp. 2-66; C. Vasoli, ‘L’Humanisme rhétorique en Italie au XVe siècle’, in: M. Fumaroli, ed., Histoire de

la rhétorique dans l'Europe moderne, 1450-1950 (Paris, 1999), pp. 81-129.

14 Erasmus, among others, presents this /ocus as an ideal opportunity to assess the

competence

of the future monarch.

In the introduction to his Jnstitutio principis

christiani or The Education of a Christian prince (1516), he writes to his pupil, the young Charles: (...) denique tot undique te maiorum tuorum circumstant exempla,

ut omnibus certissima spes sit Carolum aliquando praestaturum, quod a patre tuo Philippo dudum expectabat orbis; Erasmus, Opera omnia (Amsterdam, 1974), IV, 1. 134. ‘(...) above all so many are the examples which you see around you from among your ancestors, that we all expect with confidence to see Charles one day

perform what the world lately looked for from your father Philip’; Erasmus, ‘Institutio principis christiani’, in: A. H. T. Levi, ed., Collected Works of Erasmus, XXVII (Toronto, 1986), p. 204.

15 Grapheus, Triumphelijcke Incompst, fol. Mii".

τες.

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The second cluster of /oci concentrated on the body. Looking back at the picture of the tableau vivant of the Burgundian-Habsburg dynasty, we see that the prince was represented in a powerful and proud posture (III. 1). Although it is hard to verify, we can assume that the youngster in the sol-

Finally, the standard rhetorical questions put forward arguments about character and career. In distinction to the other two clusters of loci, this

emn procession will have made the same impression. According to Grapheus, the splendour with which the Habsburgs showed themselves to the Antwerp audience was beyond words: ‘Met wat state, met wat menichte des Edeldoms, ende groote Personagien, dese dry aengetreden zijn, kanmen dat

gedencken, danmen hier int cort soude connen bescriven’ (‘In what state, in what a company of Nobleness and high Personages they stepped forward is

impossible to describe in this short description’).'° In the procession, the Habsburgs used the opportunity personally to exhibit their corporality as an argument for laudation. There was no mediation through a civic representation. This self-presentation also featured in the tournament held on the day after the entry. Calvete de Estrella writes that Philip wanted to pay his respects to the city and the organisers of the entry and decided to join the

joust.'’ The prince showed himself as one of the bravest knights in the com-

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cluster aimed at characteristics that the central person owes entirely to himself. For this reason, Quintilian evaluates this cluster as the most important

(IIL. vii. 15). In the early modern period, the same thought was expressed in,

among others, Machiavelli’s Discorsi (1513-1520) in a clear distinction be-

tween Fortuna and Virti. Bearing in mind Philip’s age, it will come as no

surprise that his accomplishments were not the central focus of attention in the entry, but, strangely enough, nor were the ‘valiant actions’ of Charles. Only one tableau took a specific military exploit as its subject by representing the war with the Muslims (IIL 3). Calvete de Estrella writes: (...) el Emperador y Principe armados de resplandecientes arma con sus insignias Imperiales y Reales: yuan delante como huyendo demiedo d’ellos muchos

armados en habito de Turcos, Alarabes, Moros y Genizaros. Estauan alos pies d’el Emperador y Principe ciertas Princesas presas con crueles cadenas, rogan-

doles con muchas lagrimas, que las librassen de aquela seruidumbre y largo ca-

bats. Thanks to the young Habsburger, his quadrille was able to gain the victory: ‘El Principe mostré su gran valor aquel dia, que sue vno delos, que

tiuerio.”?

bien de entranbas partes, mas el Principe de Piamonte llevò la gloria en todo con su quadrilla’ (‘On that day, the prince showed his great valour, as he jousted as one of the best and broke the most lances. Although everyone did

The emperor and the prince were dressed in brilliant armour with imperial and royal insignia. They pursued a fleeing terrified group of armed Turks, Arabs, Moors, and Janissaries. At the feet of Charles and Philip lay captured princesses who were cruelly shackled in heavy chains and begged with tears in

mejor justaron y mas lanças ronpieron,

aunque muchos

lo hizieron muy

his utmost, the quadrille of the prince of Piedmont [and of Philip] won the

day’).'* Although we have to be wary of the subjective tone — Calvete de

Estrella will surely have tried to please his master — we can still accept that the setting of the tournament will have allowed the prince maximum opportunity for the display of power.|?

their eyes to be liberated from subjection and slavery.

Once again, the reporter draws attention to the panoply of the Habsburgs dressed in royal military costumes while chasing off a ‘bunch of infidels’ (to use the terms found in the accounts). It had its effect, since the enemies

all tried to get away as soon as possible through a small door in the corner of the scene. At the feet of the Habsburgs lay chained girls representing the

16 Grapheus, Triumphelijcke Incompst, fol. Ciiii".

!7 “EI Principe de España por honrrar la fiesta; y dar contentamiento à aquellos dela

villa, quiso ser vno delos dela quadrilla d’el Principe de Piamonte’ (‘The Prince of Spain wanted to honour the festivities and to satisfy the citizens. He therefore asked to be part of the quadrille of the prince of Piedmont’). Calvete de Estrella, El Feli-

cissimo Viaje, IV, fol. 258". 18 Calvete de Estrella, ΕἸ Felicissimo Viaje, TV, fol. 259".

1? Juliet Barker sees in the late Middle Ages an increasing importance of glitter and glamour in the tournaments, and Roy Strong sees a continuation of this evolution in the early moder period, where the special setting strongly dominated the game: J. R. V. Barker, The Tournament in England 1100-1400 (Woodbridge,

1986, 22003),

pp. 84-111; R. Strong, Art and Power: Renaissance Festivals (Suffolk,

pp. 11-16.

1973),

territories under Muslim command. The tableau thus represented, in visual form, Charles’s initiative to start a war of ‘liberation’ on the southern Mediterranean seaboard and on the borders of south-east and central Europe.

Philip was urged to continue his father’s work by means of an inscription that read: ‘Der vaderlijcker vromicheyt voerbeelde, is den sone een stercke vermanige’ (‘The paternal pious example is a strong stimulus for the

son’).”' This tableau, however, is the only one in the Antwerp entry with a specific reference to imperial feats of arms. The municipality referred to

feats which were, in the eyes of the citizens of Antwerp, rather uncompro-

Ὁ Calvete de Estrella, ΕἸ Felicissimo Viaje, IV, fol. 243".

*! Grapheus, 7: riumphelijcke Incompst, fol. K'.

τ

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mised, since the ‘Turkish tyranny’ was of no direct concern for them. Although the Ottoman army was at the gates of Vienna in 1529, and financial

In the triumphal arch of the Genoese trade nation, the battle against the Protestants was nevertheless visualised, although in guarded terms. A painting high in the ceiling showed ‘heretical scientists’ being burned, yet without any specific reference to their faith. The arch had the same focus as the

contributions had to be paid, the war had no devastating impact in the Netherlands. This, however, cannot be said of the scourge of the war against the

French. The attack on Antwerp in 1542 by the Guelder commander Maarten

van Rossum was still fresh in the memory. As an ally of the French, van

Rossum wanted to besiege the city and hand her over to Francis I. His plan was not carried out, because the Guelder had to flee when the Habsburg troops arrived.” Seven years after these events, no one had forgotten the attack: Calvete de Estrella’s exhaustive reference is significant.” The Antwerp municipality, however, wanted to avoid any reference to these dark moments on such a joyous day.”* This omission was all the more proper because relations between the Habsburgs and the Valois were reasonably good

in 1549.

The Antwerp tableaux were also silent about Charles’s battles against the Protestants in the Holy Roman Empire. His victory over Elector John Frederick of Saxony near Miihlberg was a famous feat and was often repre-

sented, for example in Titian’s equestrian portrait of Charles (1548). The fact that this campaign was not shown in the entry can be linked with the important role played by the Lutherans in the Antwerp economy. It would have been most ill-advised to shock these vital trading partners with images of a battle against their brothers in faith.”° 2 W. Blockmans, Keizer Karel: de utopie van het keizerschap, 1500-1558 (Leuven, 2000), pp. 81-82.

?3 Calvete de Estrella, El Felicissimo Viaje, IV, fol. 222".

34 Representations of the victories over the French were, however, common. They

were, for example, a popular theme for paintings in the houses of the Antwerp higher classes; M. Martens and N. Peeters, ‘Antwerp Painting before Iconoclasm:

Considerations on the Quantification of Taste’, in: S. Cavaciocchi, ed., Economia e Arte Secc. XIII-XVIII: atti della ‘Trentatreesima Settimana di Studi’ 30 aprile-4

161

tableau just mentioned. Once again, Turks were shown as blameworthy in a

central panel where

Victoria increased Philip’s bellicosity (Ill. 4). With

bloodstained hands and defeated Turks at her feet, she reached out for the

young prince.”’ The Ottomans constituted a serious impediment to Genoese commercial interests. Because of the seizure of Constantinople one hundred years before the Antwerp entry, the Genoese had gradually lost many southern Mediterranean contacts. Driving back the Turks would be a boon for their mercantile interests. Although

the Spanish triumphal arch was, as we have already seen,

centrally concerned with urging the prince to a policy of peace, it showed Charles’s actions against the Ottomans too. In one of the passageways, a picture showed how the Turks fled at the mere mention of his name. Further on, the two pillars at the front referred to Charles’s device ‘Plus oultre’ that could also be seen on top of the Genoese arch and was also represented a

dozen times on the long series of pilasters that followed the entire entry route. It articulated the idea of the unremitting expansion of Habsburg power, for, by surpassing Hercules’ pillars at the Straits of Gibraltar,

Charles went further than his antique predecessors had ever done.

Loci as fixed formulae This device leads us to the second step in our analysis, which starts from the rhetorical phase of elocutio. The arguments put forward by the standard questions of the inventio had to be phrased carefully. In this regard, most studies discuss the problem of comprehensibility of the Antwerp entry. For

the humanistic discourse had excluded generally known biblical and Chris-

maggio 2001 (Florence, 2002), p. 85.

”° Calvete de Estrella writes how Philip met the French king at the beginning of his voyage in Aigues-Mortes. The Habsburger even signed a treaty to underline the

Zwingli rubbed shoulders with Julian the Apostate, Simon Magus, Arius and Hus, as vanquished heretics. The tableaux anticipated the events of the rest of the century’

Here the entry into this trading city is an exception in the whole series of entries of Charles and Philip. In Lille, for example, the persecution of Protestants was

’7 «Tenia desnudos los bragos y los manos tendidas y sangrientas delos, que estauan

(temporary) good relationship. Calvete de Estrella, ΕἸ Felicissimo Viaje, IV, fol. 8”.

clearly represented in the tableaux vivants. In his Art and Power, Roy Strong writes:

‘But the changing mood of the times found disturbing expression in tableaux of religion at Lille, where the themes of incipient counter-reform were manifest in a forthright statement. While Charles and Philip stood within the Temple of Virtue, below yawned a gaping hell-mouth inhabited by the figure of Martin Luther. Further

on, the figure of the Catholic Church was to be seen treading Heresy underfoot, at-

tended by pope and emperor as the shield of the faith, while nearby Luther and

(Strong, Art and Power, pp. 88-89).

degollados y heridos, alos quales con grande ira pisaua: por el habito se conocian, que eran Turcos’ (‘[Victoria] bared her arms and stretched out her hands to the prince. She was entirely covered with the blood of wounded and mauled enemies

whom she held under her feet disapprovingly, and who could be recognised by their dress as Turks’), Calvete de Estrella, ΕἸ Felicissimo Viaje, IV, fol. 232".

# M. Bataillon, ‘Plus oultre: la cour découvre le nouveau monde’, in: J. Jacquot, ed.

Les Fêtes de la Renaissance, Il: Fêtes et cérémonies au temps de Charles Quint (Pa-

ris, 1960), pp. 13-27.

î

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tian personages in favour of antique heroes, allegories, and gods. The onlooker had to be schooled in the studia humanitatis to decipher the phras-

tyranny. In the Querela pacis of 1517, a fierce pacifist such as Erasmus did not reject a war against them. His goddess of peace does not speak with one voice about this kind of war.” Although the European monarchs are charged with the responsibility of avoiding it, Pax can understand certain

ing of the arguments.”

However, we can nuance this statement by looking at the frequent use of fixed formulae such as the imperial device. The general public was still

engaged at a certain level, as ‘Plus oultre’ was repeated very often.” Here, we reach another use of the term /ocus, namely the concept of the cliché. In Antiquity and the early modern period, the negative connotations of ‘hackneyed’ and ‘overworked’ do not yet apply.*! A device is a clear example of such a cliché that, in spite of its complex form, gives expression to imperial competence and power for a broad public. By mean of its continuous repeti-

tion, few people will have had difficulty in linking the firmness of the pillars with Charles’s policy. We can look back at the chained princesses at the feet of Charles and

Philip and notice another kind of fixed formula. The accounts tell us that

they represented

the

Bithinia, Pamphilia,

cities and

regions

Graecia, Assyria,

Arabia, Numidia, Aethiopia, Hierosolyma,

under

Muslim

slavery,

Palestina, Aegyptus,

namely

Phaenicia,

Constantinopolis, and Damas-

cus. It was a common practice to represent cities and regions by means of personifications. If we look carefully at the picture of the stage, however, it is not likely that many people knew which actress represented which city or

region (Ill. 3). It is more probable that they will have seen that the girls as a

whole represented the assembled group of suppressed Muslim territories.

The majority of the onlookers will have interpreted the fleeing oppres-

sors in the same way. Although the accounts single them out as specific

Muslim rulers, Turks, Arabs, Moors, and Janissaries, most onlookers will

probably have seen them as one coherent group, since they were represented with a similar outer appearance. It was not only in the Antwerp entry that the Muslim world was generalised as having bad sovereigns. The Muslims were an accepted cliché employed to represent slavery, heresy, and

?° See H. Soly, ‘Plechtige intochten in de steden van de Zuidelijke Nederlanden ti-

jdens de overgang van Middeleeuwen naar Nieuwe Tijd: communicatie, propaganda, spektakel’, Tijdschrift voor Geschiedenis 97 (1984), pp. 341-361. K. J. Héltgen, ‘The Ruler Between Two Columns: Imperial Aspirations and Political Iconography from the Emperor Charles V to William of Orange’, in: M. Bath, P. F. Campa and D. S. Russell, eds, Emblem Studies in Honor of Peter M. Daly (Baden-Baden, 2002), pp. 143-213. 3! For Antiquity, see, among others, S. B. Blinn and M. Garrett, “Aristotelian Topoi

as a Cross-Cultural Analytical Tool’, Philosophy and Rhetoric 26 (1993), pp. 93112; M. C. Leff, ‘The Topics of Argumentative Invention in Latin Rhetorical The-

ory from Cicero to Boethius’, Rhetorica | (1983), pp. 23-44. For the early modern

Netherlands, see, among others, Fleurkens, Stichtelijke lust, pp. 95-103.

163

grounds for war. The worst thing that can happen to the people is the terror

of tyrants such as the Muslim rulers. They have to be countered with all

possible means.

It is, however, not clearly substantiated why the Muslim

rulers were tyrannical, neither in the Antwerp tableaux and triumphal arches, nor in Erasmus’s writings. We may instead see the image of the

Turks (and Arabs, who were often linked with them) as a stock formula to

represent bad government without having to mention any specific European

counterexample.

The same kind of cliché was used to represent good government. We have already seen devices representing in visual form political firmness and success. The Antwerp municipality went even further by visualising the

specific competence of Charles and Philip in a triumphal arch next to the Grand Place (Ill. 5). Once again, they made reference to Antiquity by hav-

ing the Habsburgs support the world upon their shoulders, just as Hercules and Atlas had once supported the heavenly firmament. A simple compari-

son is out of the question, for, in classical myth, the latter two heroes had

quarrelled as neither of them wanted to bear the eternal weight. This did not match the central theme of the entry, namely the joyous transfer of power

between Charles and Philip. We can, moreover, interpret the antique heroes

as a cliché which expressed Habsburg political power. According to Gordon Teskey in Allegory and Violence, early modern artists gratefully used the antique gods and heroes for ‘their role in the conjoining of political author-

ity to spiritually resonant cultural forms’.** By using Greek and Roman myth to express royal power, the creators of the arch conveyed an aura of

eternal power. So the monarchs enjoyed a portion of the inapproachability

*? Quod si hic fatalis est humani ingenii morbu, ut prorsus absque bellis durare effunditur, tametsi praestabatet hos doctrina, bene factis uitaeque innocentia ad Christi religionem allicere, quam armis adoriri. Attamen si bellum, ut diximis, om-

nino uteri non potest, illud certe leuius sit malum, quam sic impie Christianos inter

se committi collidique. Erasmus, Opera omnia, IV, I. 90; ‘But perhaps it is the fatal

malady of Human nature to be quite unable to carry on without wars. If so, why is

this evil passion not let loose upon the Turks? Of course it used to be thought preferable, even in their case, to win them over to the religion of Christ by teaching and

by the example of good deeds and a blameless life rather than by mounting an armed

attack. But if war, as we said, is not wholly avoidable, that kind would be a lesser

evil than the present unholy conflicts and clashes between Christians’, Erasmus, Querela Pacis, p. 314. G. Teskey, Allegory and Violence (Ithaca, 1996), p. 79.

πε

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of their fictive representatives. In our case, the Antwerp municipality made it clear that the rule of the Habsburgs was everlasting and overpowering. Therefore, the antique heroes were the ideal representations thanks to their denotation of force, valour, and perseverance.

Concept and cliché, though, had a complex interrelation. The differences were explicitly emphasised. The subscription underscored that ‘Hercules ende den grooten Atlas sijn al bueselen, dese twee sijn de gene die des geheelen werelts last waerachtelijck op hun schouderen dragen’ (‘Hercules and the big Atlas were both triflers. These two [Charles

and

Philip] are the ones that really support the whole worldly burden upon their shoulders’).** Although the latter were still indebted to the former in order

to acquire a legendary renown, the antique heroes did not express the concept of regal power, for Charles and Philip were put on the arch to represent, through their own physical presence and appearance, Habsburg supremacy. In the tournament mentioned above, Philip personified the commonplace expression of Habsburg power to an even greater extent. By joining the joust and proving his stout-heartedness, he placed himself in the tradition of the brave knights of the legendary King Arthur and Amadis de Gaule. By 1549, it was definitely clear that tournaments no longer served as a means of settling a dispute, but as a way of flaunting skills and bravery. Therefore, the tournaments were increasingly staged as a play wherein the

monarch often played the leading part as the ultimate rescuer.” One of the

most famous chivalric spectacles ever held took place in Binche some months before the Antwerp entry. It immediately became a fixed point of

165

Fixed formulae performed

Although the Antwerp Binche, it would still full understanding of knights. The more the

rules

became

tournament was less explicitly staged than the one in have been hard for the common audience to have a the comings and goings of the different groups of joust evolved into a propaganda show, the more the

complex,

ritualised,

and

situational.

Therefore,

the

large

crowd that was viewing the tournament will in the first place have noticed the skilful and elegant bodies of the youngsters, for the accounts make clear that the prince and his retinue did not restrain themselves from showing off. With this, we arrive at our last phase of analysis, namely the actio-phase, where our attention will be directed to the specific visual clichés used to deliver the phrased arguments. Which fixed formulas were used in the corporeal performances of the actors and the corporeal representations on the paintings and statues? Neither Grapheus nor Calvete de Estrella give a clear description of the physical self-presentation of Philip in the tournament. Once again, we have to resort to the description and the illustration of a tableau vivant. Let us look more specifically at the stage where the prince’s device ‘Nec spe, nec metu’ was represented (Ill. 6). Just like Charles’s ‘Plus oultre’, it was a con-

crete and preset phrasing of the argument that the prince was suitable for his future task. Neither hope, nor fear led him; he chose the right way inde-

pendently. On the right of the staging of Philip, Spes pulled at his mantle

and, on the left, Metus. Fortunately, four women stood by the prince. They

Amadis, and took up arms against the evil wizard Norabroc (by reversing the letters of this name, one got the name of the noble Spanish actor who

were the allegories of Constancy, Fidelity, Force, and Magnanimity. In that way, the municipality represented the need for a steady government. For most bystanders, problems would have occurred in distinguishing the winged girl and the old man alongside Philip as Spes and Metus, not to mention the naming of the four women flanking the prince as the political

wizard and restored peace and order,*’

plausible that most bystanders will have recognised the representation of

reference. Something was ‘mas brava que las fiestas de Bains’. In one of the jousts,

Philip

was

concealed

as Beltenebros,

a former

disguise

of

played this character). After many ordeals, the Habsburg prince defeated the

virtues of Constantia, Fiducia, Fortitudo, and Magnanimitas. It is, however,

Philip himself. Grapheus writes that the actor who played the prince looked

3 Grapheus, Triumphelijcke Incompst, fol. Li”.

35 E, Van Den Neste, Tournois, joutes, pas d’armes dans les villes de Flandre a la

fin du Moyen âge (1300-1486) (Paris, 1996), pp. 136-137; E. Lecuppre-Desjardin, La Ville des cérémonies: essai sur la communication politique dans les anciens Pays-Bas bourguignons (Turnhout, 2004), pp. 200-210.

* Strong, Art and Power, p. 91. 37 E. Peters, ‘1549 Knight’s Game at Binche: Constructing Philip II’s Ideal Identity in a Ritual of Honor’, in: R. Falkenburg, J. De Jong, M. Meadow, B. Ramakers and H. Roodenburg, eds, Hof-, Staat- en Stadsceremonies, Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek 49 (1999), pp. 11-35.

like him. He ‘resembled the prince in every respect’ (‘onse Prince, den levenden over al gelijcke’). The crown and the elegant dress will have

helped this identification.

What is interesting for the actio-phase of our analysis is the specific

way in which Philip’s body was used in performance. This will probably

not have gone unnoticed by the bystanders. Grapheus writes explicitly that the prince was staged in all masculine force on a block of stone, showing

3 Grapheus, Triumphelijcke Incompst, fol. Miii".

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how he remained standing in spite of his attackers.” Just like the firmness of the pillars of Charles’s ‘Plus oultre’ and Philip’s firmness in the tournament, the inflexibility of the staged prince was a cliché which expressed his competence. Few people, however, would relate this scene to its intrinsic

reference to the Stoic political ideal of Constancy that became

more and

more popular in humanistic milieus.* Most bystanders would just have seen the primary subject of the tableau, a strong young man. In addition to this gesture of sturdiness, the actor also represented mas-

culinity through his dress. In his De civilitate morum puerilium or On Good Manners for Boys of 1530, Erasmus prescribes that a boy should be careful

not to cultivate his outer appearance excessively, in order to maintain his

decency: ‘It is boorish to go about with one’s hair uncombed: it should be neat, but not as elaborate as a girl’s coiffure’.*! In due modesty, beauty could be aimed at by women, but men had to strive for dignity and authority. To give too much attention to one’s looks was as bad as to give too little

attention. In the same belief, the organisers of the entry chose to represent Philip as a decently dressed youngster and not as a naked David or Adonis,

although both were nevertheless painting and sculpture.

very

popular

figures

in contemporary

This does not exclude the fact that Philip will have demonstrated masculine appeal. In the first place, there was the traditional jerkin with puffed sleeves which accentuated the muscular chest and upper arms. Secondly,

the prince wore a pair of knickerbockers. These accentuated his sexuality,

as, in mid-sixteenth century, the codpiece was given a prominent place in the design of these trousers. The codpiece was originally a piece of cloth which made it easier for a man to urinate. At the beginning of the sixteenth century, it became a protective garment in the imperial army. Later on, noblemen used it to show their military strength and their connection with the Habsburgs.

Once

sixteenth power.

century,

39

.

adopted

at other courts and

it became

a fixed

visual

in the cities in the mid-

formula

expressing

male

o> : = ‘[Onse Prince] staende met een manlijck wesen op eenen viercantigen steen, van

drije voeten hooge, wordt ten beyden sijden met sinen mantel herwarts derwaerts getrocken’, Grapheus, Triumphelijcke Incompst, fol. Miii".

per.

ende

Moreau, ‘Les Trois Etapes du stoïcisme moderne’, in: P.-F. Moreau, ed., Le

Stoicisme au XVIe et au XVIIe siècle: le retour des Philosophies antiques à l'âge

classique (Paris, 1999), pp. 11-27. 41 Erasmus, Opera omnia, IV, I. 864; transl. in Erasmus, ‘De civilitate’, p. 277.

‘? In her paper “Codpieces and Manly Display’ at the annual meeting of the Renais-

sance Society of America in San Francisco in 2006, Carole Collier Frick made this

historical evolution clear. She also drew attention to Europe’s first encounters with

I

167

The examples in the visual arts are legion. Artists such as Bruegel, Seisenegger, Bronzino, and Pontormo used the codpiece as a clear locus for representing manly strength. A fine example is the latter’s portrait of a young Halberdier of the 1530s (Ill. 7). His codpiece is even more promi-

nent than Philip’s, and there is a striking difference in form, as the soldier has bound his penis conspicuously (perhaps in an attempt to represent an erection). This constrictive garment primarily underlined the male power of

youngsters such as Philip and the halberdier. Noticing the halberdier’s fine gesture and restrained expression, however, an elegant sensuality also seems to be have been conveyed. This same synthesis between strength and elegance can be found in Jeffery Persels’s discussion of Rabelais’s oeuvre, in which the codpiece is connected with humanist concepts of refined manliness: More than mere could perhaps be a moral program chronicler of its

association with a newly homocentric universe, Humanism viewed fruitfully as, for lack of a neutral term, ‘vir-centric’ — represented in and through the male body. For Rabelais, intellectual victory and acute observer of the sociocultural

moment, it is forcefully represented in and through the codpiece.**

We can now focus on the female clothing and its link with femininity in order to identify fixed visual expressions. When we look at the actresses representing the allegories of good government behind the firm prince, it is striking that the designer of the illustrations, Pieter Coecke, depicts their theatre costumes as transparent veils over a well-pronounced body. This is most apparent in the actress to Philip’s right, whose breasts are accentuated by the tight-fitting fabric. In other tableaux, some actresses even revealed their breasts, as in the one in which the nine Joys triumph over the six Miseries (Ill. 8). This observation may lead to the question of whether the transparent veil and the emphasis on the breasts were general clichés de-

‘primitive’ New World males, which led to an overt sartorial reaction on the part of European men that transformed the utilitarian codpiece into a masculine display. ilps Op Persels, ‘Bragueta Humanistica, or Humanism’s Codpiece’, Sixteenth Cen-

tury Journal 28 (1997), pp. 79-99 (p. 99). On the other hand, the codpiece is a new locus for the representation of sexual power.

Persels refers to a passage in which

Panurge drives an opponent into a tight spot with sexual intimidation. This is done in a virtuous game with a codpiece and an orange. Rabelais writes: ‘Whereat Panurge pulled out his long codpiece with its silken lock and extended it a cubit and a half, and held it in the air with his left hand, and with his right took his orange,

threw it in the air several times, and on the eighth hid it in his right fist, very quietly

holding it up; then he began to shake his fine codpiece, showing it to Thaumaste’ (quoted in Persels, ‘Bragueta Humanistica’, p. 80).

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169

signed to arouse an erotic response in the onlookers.” To answer this, we may turn to Renaissance painting, where the veiled and revealed female body was prominent. According to the Italian art historian Mario Perniola in ‘Between Clothing and Nudity’, Renaissance artists had a strong awareness of the erotic potential of the female body.” One clear example is the depic-

When, in 1536, the pope and the citizens of Rome granted Charles the privi-

Baldung Grien, Van Cleve, and Cranach. Time and again, Lucretia reveals her breasts. A knife is planted in between them. Soon that knife will do its deadly work, leading Lucretia into suicide, saving her honour, increasing the will for a revolution, and dismissing the last violent king of Rome, whose son had raped her. In spite of her imminent suicide, depictions of Lucretia’s body are still very explicit. Cranach’s depiction of 1533 is exemplary (Ill. 9). Although we should resist the temptation to project our own responses onto a sixteenth-century viewer, it is hard to imagine that this picture could have failed to produce an erotic response. The knife is not depicted as the deadly instrument it is in the antique heroic story. It is transformed into an ornamental object that goes well with the attractive necklace and the fine-looking haircut. The blade does not give the impression of being made of mortal steel, but seems rather fragile and crystalline. Moreover, the transparent veil decorates Lucretia’s body in such a manner that it does

wreaths, and palms,

tion of the popular theme of the suicide of Lucretia by artists such as Diirer,

not conceal it at all. In an elegant gesture, the Roman woman even accentu-

ates her genitals by placing the see-through veil over them without covering

them up. It seems that Cranach’s Lucretia is less concerned with her coming

suicide than with her sensuous appearance in the eyes of the onlooker. We can conclude, then, that the painter uses the same means as the organisers of the entry, namely the visual commonplaces of the transparent veil and the uncovered breasts.

In addition to the visual display of ‘masculine’ strength and ‘feminine’ sensuality with the aid of predetermined means, another concept was remarkably prominent during the Antwerp entry, namely the motif of the triumph, which was itself represented by means of fixed formulae. The Roman custom of honouring

a successful general or emperor with a solemn

entry

through the Via Sacra onto the Forum Romanum inspired this motif significantly.* Moreover, for Titus, Septimius Severus, and Constantine, trium-

phal arches of stone were built to commemorate their victories for eternity. # See C. Breward, The Culture of Fashion: A New History of Fashionable Dress (Manchester/New York, 1995), pp. 69-73.

‘S M. Perniola, ‘Between Clothing and Nudity’, in: M. Feher, R. Naddaff and N. Tazi, eds, Fragments for a History of the Human Body, 3 vols. (New York, 1989), IL, pp. 237-265.

46 M. Beard, J. North and S. Price, Religions of Rome (Cambridge, 1998), pp. 44-45.

lege of entering Rome in the very same way, these antique monuments were

at the centre of attention. They were covered with inscriptions that linked the Habsburg with his Roman forebears.*” For the same reason, the Antwerp organisers erected triumphal arches with antique decorations, such as winged Victory figures, triumphal

along with the classical architectural orders, clearly

shown, among others, in the arch that contained the tableau of ‘Nec spe, nec metu’

discussed

above

(Ill. 6). Thanks

to Sebastiano

Serlio’s mid-

sixteenth-century Architettura and Coecke’s early translation into Dutch, French, and German, these motifs became an increasingly popular commonplace for expressing imperial, royal, and civic power visually. The Antwerp entry and its illustrated official account are important early disseminators of this classical style.“ In ‘Charles V and the Idea of the Empire’, Frances Yates explains how the triumph motif became a fixed theme in the laudation of the Habsburgs. The comparison with the Roman emperors conveyed the Habsburgs’ desire to follow Caesar and Augustus and rule the whole world. Certainly, this ambition was an unattainable phantom, but nonetheless highly influential. World dominion on the Roman model was not only an important propaganda theme for the Habsburgs, it later grasped the rest of Europe too. Yates writes: ‘It is precisely as a phantom that Charles's empire was of importance, because it raised again the imperial idea and spread it through Europe in the symbolism of its propaganda’. Charles’s device ‘Plus oultre’

went even further in this direction. As we have already seen, it was a proper

locus for expressing a sense of aemulatio towards the Romans. At the beginning of Charles’s reign, Habsburg propaganda substantiated this with conquests in Europe and north Africa. Later in his career, this device came to refer to territorial expansions in America and the Ottoman Empire.“ Political emulation was consistently visualised and the Roman emperors overshadowed.

This sense of aemulatio was also represented visually during the entry

by other means. Let us take a final look at the Spanish arch. The central

#7 Strong, Art and Power, p. 83. 48 Ἢ De La Fontaine Verwey, Humanisten, dwepers en rebellen in de zestiende eeuw (Amsterdam, 1975), p. 55.

# F. A. Yates, ‘Charles V and the Idea of the Empire’, in Astraea: The Imperial Theme in the Sixteenth Century (London, 1975), p. 1. ‘0 K. J. Héltgen, ‘The Ruler Between Two Columns: Imperial Aspirations and Political Iconography from the Emperor Charles V to William of Orange’, in: M. Bath, Daly (BaP. F. Campa and D. S. Russell, eds, Emblem Studies in Honor of Peter M.

den-Baden, 2002), pp. 143-168.

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building was inspired by the Roman circular temple. This was clearly prescribed and depicted in Serlio’s treatise and Coecke’s translation (Ill. 2 and

10). The dome, the obelisks, the use of four orders for the columns, and the

rustica style of the basement are clearly inspired by these books. The triumphal arch, however, represents an attempt to change and emulate the previous design, for instance by adding antique colossi, a balustrade around the dome, and a trumpet-like vault. This architectural emulation fitted closely with the message the Spanish

wanted to convey. As already mentioned, the arch made it clear that Philip’s reign would be characterised by peace and could therefore be compared

(o

with the reign of his father and of Augustus; what is more, however, the

imperial dream of world dominion was literally unrolled for the benefit of the prince. Two angels (it is unclear whether they were actors or mechanical) descended spectacularly and spread out a piece of satin with a text in Latin, given here in Grapheus’s translation: ‘Voerwaer tis een groot ende seker voerteecken dat ghi, o Prince, Coninck der Spaenscher Natien, sult wesen des werelts eenich Monarcha, gemerct dat uwe macht is toecom-

mende so groot, dat sy haer sonder eynde strecken sal aan het hoochste tot onderste der eerden’ (‘Truly, it is a great and certain sign that you, o Prince, King of the Spanish Nation, will be the only Monarch of the world, given that your future might is so great that it will spread from the highest to the lowest parts of the world’).*! It is probable that many bystanders were not able to read and under-

stand the Latin text. They would, however, have been impressed by all glitter and glamour, for it was not only the textual discourse that was used to convince the people by means of clichés such as allegories, devices, and heraldic references. Visual discourse was also used throughout. Visual clichés had the task of convincing the onlookers that the Habsburgs and the municipality were rightly invested with their high responsibilities To that end,

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ITALIAN ACTORS AS AGENTS OF REBELLION AGAINST COMMONPLACES IN THE AGE OF COUNTER-REFORMATION Philiep Bossier The fascinating dossier of early modem female performance in Italy has a double link with the fundamental study of the way an almost parallel culture

of commonplaces is functioning at a large scale in the context of emerging vernacular literary systems in Europe. On the one hand, the first generation of professional actresses (c.1560) need to affirm themselves in the context of negative commonplaces against their newborn presence on the stage. So they construct a rhetorical system of reference to the first examples of professional acting in the early 1530s, in which — by contrast — one can observe how exclusively male performers try both to isolate and to protect their acting style as an autonomous artistic activity. On the other hand, they wish to deconstruct negative a-priori judgement towards explicit female exposure in public places. So they try to explore all the possibilities of ambivalence both in drama and by using the codification of female beauty in the dominant neo-petrarchan culture in which they live. As a result, a new attitude of public fascination regarding female poetic beauty on the stage gradually replaces the former rejection of the same. The important thing is that, in doing

so, female performers use various patterns of standardised culture in order

to maintain their position as a more visible presence in dominant court poli-

10. Tempio Sacro, in: Pieter Coecke Van Sebastiani Serlii (Antwerp, 1553), fol. lv.

Aelst, De

boecken

van Architecturen

tics. They use as an open repertoire the unwritten techniques of professional performance skills. They take advantage of the existence of a certain number of stock characters in the major Renaissance dramas from two decades before. The ambiguity of these characters is so much part of the structure of the text that they can be used in the most various and even contradictory ways of depicting reality. Should we accept as a guideline the proposal for a general and complete definition of ‘commonplaces’ offered by Ann Moss,

then we can immediately confirm its application — albeit in a particular way — to the question of actors as agents of rebellion in the era of the Counter Reformation:

[...] commonplaces are cultural material with both past and present currency within a given language community; their reference is to opinions commonly in disaccepted as valid; they are deployed primarily as tools for argument

Marni:

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PHILIEP BOSSIER

course designed

to promote

and reinforce

ITALIAN ACTORS AS AGENTS OF REBELLION

culturally sanctioned

modes

of

thought; and, furthermore, commonplace propositions have a ritualised charac-

ter that makes of them recognisable modes of communication coded for universal reception, be it as familiar forms of verbal expression, hackneyed metaphors, normative rules, or recurring patterns.!

Indeed, in the case of the Italian professional theatre system, the actors’

search for dynamic commonplaces within the repertoire is there to stabilise

and to reinforce those dramatic and scenic conventions that allow them to seduce the audience on a permanent basis: in doing so, they counter-balance the static or ‘frozen’ cultural material of both past and present traditions which still survive in some performance models of a non-professional kind, i.e. those practised by dilettante actors on stage and in the marketplaces. In synthesis, the way the new generation of comedians interfere with the contemporary system of commonplaces shows us that, in fact, they occupy a strong position in what we could call an ‘intermediate culture’ between dynamic and static commonplaces and, as a consequence, between standard-

ised patterns of repertoire and their continuous need for aggiornamento.

The

power

and persuasion

coming

from

such

a comfortable

culture-in-

between, immune from direct attacks, has an almost immediate impact on other participants in the literary society still condemned to an isolated, peripheral or even ‘invisible’ position. Indeed, the attractiveness of an intermediate position between two types of commonplaces will be explored by

the first female writers: following the example of their colleagues on stage, a new generation of writers advocating professional skill will try out similar rhetorical strategies in order to give new shape to established tradition. The second consequence is that the remaining male actors will meet in their female fellows the best placed advocates and ambassadors to promote both in Italy and beyond a way of organising theatre that will come to be the domi-

nant practice in subsequent years: a system based on regular companies of

both men and women travelling from court to court by implementing the stagione model of organising theatre. As will be demonstrated in this chapter, commonplaces occupy a strategic position in the transformation of European dramatic conventions.

Ambassadors of intermediate cultures: Italian actresses on the early mod-

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tion of international scholarship.* Two main fields of research can be recognised in this specific area of cultural studies. On the one hand, starting

from around the 1980s, new to analyse the phenomenon quecento, usually gathered commedia dell'arte, as an

historical insights in Italy have made it possible of contrasting performance practices in the Cinunder the eighteenth-century anachronism of interesting expression of poetic choice which

characterises the dynamic culture of the late Renaissance in Italy. Indeed.

the commedia dell’arte often deals with the question of how to translate into

practical form the many attempts to standardise models drawn from Plato,

Aristotle, Horace and Cicero through Cinquecento fusion.* On the other

hand, in recent times gender studies have made a real contribution to the more detailed investigation of exceptional instances of female presence in the literary hierarchy of early modern Europe.*

Notwithstanding the scientific results of both approaches, the study of women’s activity on the stage is still suffering from a certain number of omissions, especially in terms of method. Indeed, the investigation of women’s presence is predominantly linked with the reconstruction of what we could call the vitae of exceptional personalities in a male-dominated literary system.° Secondly, women’s practice is mainly viewed as a specific area of cultural production, which functions as a counterforce against all kinds of dominant practices. As a result, what is striking in the research is the emphasis on individual destiny as well as on the functioning of a counter-model in society. In a way, both approaches underscore the notion ? For an excellent recent overview see A. MacNeil, Music and Women of the Commedia dell'Arte in the Late Sixteenth Century (Oxford, 2003). A standard encyclopaedic reference is G. Duby and M. Perrot, eds, Histoire des femmes en Occident (Paris, 1991-). The most complete and systematic treatment can be found in L. Timmermans, L'Accès des femmes a la culture sous l'Ancien Régime (Paris, 2005). 3 The term commedia dell ‘arte was introduced by the Italian playwright Carlo Gol-

doni. Contemporary sixteenth-century denominations are: commedia di zanni, teatro di comici, or commedia improvvisa. * See P. Bossier, ‘Ambasciatore della risa’: la commedia dell’arte nel secondo Cinquecento (1545-1590) (Florence, 2004).

One of the most important achievements is the publication of original early modem

French or Italian texts with critical commentaries and an up-to-date bibliography in

M. L. King and A. Rabil Jr., series eds, The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe

ern stage

(Chicago/London, University of Chicago Press).

The importance of female performance as a structural element in early modern European theatre has only quite recently been brought to the atten-

singular voices such as Olympia Morata, Jacqueline Pascal, Isotta Nogarola, Madeleine de Scudéry and many others. However, while attempts have been made to cata-

! See A. Moss’s chapter in this volume, pp. I-17 (p. 1).

text.

Not surprisingly, the series mentioned in note 5 is dedicated to the rehabilitation of

logue every single cultural contribution made by these forgotten female authors, less attention has been paid to the particular functioning of these voices in a broader con-

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ITALIAN ACTORS AS AGENTS OF REBELLION

that female activity on stage was an exceptional event or even a peripheral voice in culture. In this chapter, 1 would like to investigate an alternative

way, an accurate study of the ambiguous stage characters and the way their qualities are transmitted by female performers might contribute to a descriptive analysis of the internal dynamics of the literary system of the period between Humanism and the Baroque.

methodological approach in which both approaches should be reconsidered

from the perspective of a singular practice occurring in relation to a broader network of relationships within the cultural system. In doing so, an analytical perspective is added to existing research by proposing a framework of cultural dynamics taken as a whole: the nature of individual female performance is to be seen as part of a general shift within the cultural system. What is true for this specific area of research in early modern perform-

ance is also valid for state-of-the-art research in most areas of Renaissance

studies. Indeed, in most histories of literature, the Italian Renaissance is still

presented as either a continuous construction of static and strict norms or a succession of rigid and very precise models of court literature, all of which were to become, sooner or later, the basis for high culture in the principal capitals of Europe. To list some of these: the implementation of a literary system based on vernacular expression and the auctoritas of Trecento foundational texts (Boccaccio for prose, Petrarch for poetry); the outlining of the behaviour of the ideal courtier starting with Castiglione; the codification of the political treatise based on Machiavelli; the choice of a new kind of novel

based on Ariosto’s invention of a soap-opera-like structuring of plot and sub-plots in his Orlando Furioso; the centralisation of baroque imagination in Tasso’s Jerusalem Delivered; the professionalisation of modern theatre;

and the ‘invention’ of the opera as a new form of art established by the end of the century. As a consequence of the rigidity of these models, some eccentric personalities such as Pietro Aretino, Michelangelo Buonarroti, Gaspara Stampa and Benvenuto Cellini are still quite difficult to place within

them, as the models are based on a belief in unambiguous meaning and onedimensional choice as regulating principles in society. Such a traditional and orthodox positioning of authors and texts might be considered to be al-

together too rigid. After all, cultural reality and early documents seem to

stress that norm and anti-norm do not always have to exclude one another. They might even be co-present in one and the same text, cultural event, sce-

175

Cultural mediation and the theatre system in the Italian Renaissance Recent literary studies have focused predominantly on specific principles of

cultural dynamics.’ Itamar Even-Zohar’s polysystem theory, for example, focuses on how in a certain period of its evolution a literary system can undergo pressure to transform itself into an alternative series of norms with a new kind of stability.* With his concept of the ‘rhetoric of diffraction’, Fabio Finotti has also made a particular contribution to the general discussion of contradictory movements in Italian Renaissance literature.’ These were especially operative after the codification of language and aesthetics

by Pietro Bembo in his Prose della volgar lingua (Prose of the Vernacular

Language, Venice, 1525) — a provocative text that was only accepted after a lengthy debate conducted throughout the Italian peninsula. Finotti argues that the core principle of literary development at the time concerns the way in which the initial model of classical court literature is ‘diffracted’ into a varied and dynamic set of alternative, though not oppositional, expressions of the same prototype. In addition to utilising these interpretations, I would like to argue that the concept of the ‘cultural mediator’, together with that of ‘rebellion against static commonplaces’ can be of use for our understanding of the dy-

namics of the literary process. The notions of ‘cultural mediator’, and of the more traditional ‘counter-model’, can be fruitfully combined when reconsidering female performance on stage as an expression of more general tendencies, developments and changes within the cultural hierarchy of Renaissance Italy, rather than as one of the strategies to promote a particular group in society — in this case, actresses. In fact, from the moment actresses be-

nic prototype or stage convention. For the Italian Renaissance, the shaping

of ambiguity in literary products was as much a structuring principle as the simple codification of literary norms. To a certain extent, and of course subject to time constraints, the representation of moral dignity and apparently repulsive behaviour could coexist. For example, within an aesthetic portrayal of beauty in the painting of naked bodies, explicit sexuality could be appropriate; or in certain genres of drama, serene human perfection could

be pictured as being compatible with more impulsive desires of the senses. Such possibilities depend on the extent to which we perceive the hierarchies of the aesthetic canon in the Renaissance to be flexible and open. In this

7 See P. Bossier, “Ἴνα verbe puissant et princier”: bref aperçu de la dynamique littéraire à la Renaissance italienne’, in: B. Van den Bossche et al., eds, ‘Innumerevoli

contrasti d’innesti’: la poesia del Novecento (e altro): miscellanea in onore di Franco Musarra, I (Louvain/Florence, 2007), pp. 675-689. S

Even-Zohar, Papers in Historical Poetics (Tel Aviv, 1978); idem, ‘Polysystem

Theory’, Poetics Today 1 (1979), pp. 287-310, idem, Polysystem Studies, Poetics Today 11 no. 1 (1990, themed volume).

F. Finotti, Retorica della diffrazione: Bembo, Aretino, Giulio Romano e Tasso, let-

teratura e scena cortigiana (Florence, 2004).

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came active in the Italian theatre in the 1560s,'° they do not seem to support individual fate or fortune nor even gender-related ambition, but instead to

this is very striking, these actresses tried to reintegrate even older practices into their new kind of performance in a more explicit way than male actors. Female specialists in the professional theatre from the 1560s-1580s tried to assemble, in a historically oriented perspective, the legacy of individual per-

promote, initially, a group-oriented quality of performance.'' Actresses presented themselves as ambassadors

of a stage practice seen as a whole, that

is, in the way new professional drama was to be guaranteed, from that mo-

ment on, by the dramaturgical choices of theatre companies which travelled from one marketplace to another and from one court festivity to another,

especially in northern and central Italy (Venice, Mantua, Ferrara, Florence). As a result, actresses became a symbol of a new theatre model,

based on professionalism and new market strategies, in order to construct a strong basis for themselves within the main culture of late Renaissance It-

aly, in which courts used theatrical performance as part of their cultural politics. In this way actresses could even reach powerful positions within the context of pre-Baroque theatre in Italy. Female performers spoke, acted and performed in the name of (and certainly on behalf of) their male colleagues,

who had been active on the stage as full-time professionals since the 1540s,"° and, as such, they were mediators of a practice that needed to be defended, strengthened and recognised in the cultural system. However, and 10 A rather amusing modern toy for research is the website ‘Commedia dell’ Arte

Women

Timeline’, which presents the first evidence of female acting around the

sixties of the Cinquecento: ‘Lucrezia signs contract in Roma as a professional actress’. See , last ac-

cessed November 20, 2006. See also A. Evain, L’Apparition des actrices professionnelles en Europe (Paris, 2001).

' It is striking that the most recent contributions on the commedia dell'arte focus on a new chronological presentation of the phenomenon of professional acting: the initial period of small companies, the first ventures of big companies abroad, the international market for Italian troupes placed under the supervision of a female actress, and the period of the written traces of the companies (scenarios, dramatic texts, letters). As a consequence, the moment actresses became responsible for the working of a company is nowadays considered as a watershed in theatre chronology in the Italian Renaissance. '? These dramaturgical choices are linked to professionalism: working with contracts, the indication of the period of performance, renting and housing of theatres, conventions of travelling, protecting ‘copyright’ and theatre direction, etc. ® It is now accepted that comedians promoted themselves as being ‘different’, opposition to regular court tricksters or occasional performers at court. The ae accurate norm to distinguish the new professional acting from the former is the way new performers chose to work with written contracts within which all the members

of the troupe as well as their main responsibilities are named. The first known contract was used in Padua in 1545. See ‘Commedia dell’Arte troupes Timeline’ at , last accessed November 20, 2006.

177

formers who had worked at the start of the century, and whose activities had

been fundamentally important as a result of their focus on the acquired skills of theatre practice (for instance, the dramaturgy of Angelo Beolco called Ruzante (d.

1542) or of his associate in art, Zuan Polo, d. 1541).

They were therefore mediators of a cultural past that was to be re-actualised for the sake of an emerging profession in its fight against negative commonplaces. Vincenza Armani, Vittoria Piisimi and Isabella Andreini (15621604) were representatives of this new model of performance within the

cultural system of the late Renaissance. This model was based on the actresses’ mediation of both previous and contemporary structures and norms,

in which they focused on previously established, distinctive ways of acting that had been initiated by male performers in the 1530s (although the latter had not founded structured troupes performing on an annual basis), as well as on contemporary norms, by trying to create a new image of female pres-

ence on the stage which explored female beauty, attractiveness and fascination, especially through their voices and declamation. The blossoming of female performance is not an isolated phenomenon. It is not only a central part of the establishment of a new kind of profession within the cultural hierarchy of the Italian Renaissance, but also represents certain underlying patterns of cultural change characteristic of this specific period in Italian history. The growing importance of female actresses is first of all connected with a broader process of professionalisation of the arts in Italy, in which practices that had formerly been linked to individuals were now presented as the affair of a specialised group of people. This process can be characterised by a restricted set of features: a new social activity settling into the economic framework of the marketplace by the introduction of a leading — albeit provocative — model capable of promoting an entire profession; the presentation of the profession as having a past of its own; the

picturing of the profession as entering the present stage from a new perspective and thus breaking with its glorious past; and the aim to deconstruct the negative a priori attitude which society held towards public performance. Secondly, the introduction of women onto the Italian stage corresponds

to the ultimate phase of the until then predominant model of poetry and selfconsciousness, that is, the various ways in which Petrarch’s Canzoniere was

used and reused in artistic manifestations. In contrast to previous interpretations of Petrarch, those of the 1560s-1580s concentrate much more on the

elusive shape of beauty, on the physical presence of the body and on the exploration of the senses. We can observe this in paintings, but also in a new

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kind of performance on the stage, embodied by female beauty and thematic

ambivalence.

A third underlying cultural pattern marks the beginning of a new period of the Italian Renaissance in the 1560s, a period officially marked by the

conclusion of the Council of Trent (1545-1563). From this time onwards,

aesthetic choices were discussed much more, and polemics were more fre-

quently concerned with practical considerations, such as the influence of

theatre on the public, the impact of body language on the stage, and the need for written texts as a prerequisite for controlling the process of literary creativity by means of censorship. In fact, an attempt to control the production of culture was not the exclusive preoccupation of the ecclesiastical authorities. A similar development can be discerned in the increasing power of

academies, professional corporations and in the ethical deontology within

poetics, in which, of course, commonplace interpretations based on tradition were still very active. As a consequence of these patterns of cultural transition, there was a real need for poetic strategies from within the field. The ambivalences derived from the comedic tradition of the past and the coexistence of oppositional practices could barely be tolerated any longer. It is, for example, emblematic that Torquato Tasso’s striking but provocative masterpiece, Jerusalem Delivered, had to be rewritten several times due to pressure from the Church. This was not only because its religious content was linked to erotic staging, but also because it was unusual in not respecting harmony

and

equilibrium in style and composition, qualities that were so important for

canonical works

of art. Within

such a context, cultural mediation

could

function as an active principle. The mediation of traditional authorities, as

well as canonical, petrarchan standards of beauty, was of strategic impor-

tance to the emerging professionalisation of theatrical performance. The same applies to the more than occasional attempts to rebel against mainstream orthodoxy. From the first half of the sixteenth century onwards, the

passage from the dominant position of the high Renaissance codification of

art to a more ambivalent position is marked by a series of mutations that result in this process of professionalisation. When hierarchies undergo serious pressure, rigid cultural delimitations become less and less stable. As a result, the Opposition between low and high culture becomes less explicit and a larger area is created in between, which is open to all kinds of influences from outside the established culture. This is exactly what happened within Italian theatrical performance . The canonical court theatre (1500-1540), basically administered by members of the court or by the princely aristocracy, was gradually replaced (1540-1560 ) by a model from non-official culture, that is, coming directly from carnival or from oral performances practised in the public marketplace. As a result,

179

skills from popular and oral performance were gradually introduced within

the borders of the dominant model of written culture. The integration of skills coming from a popular tradition of theatre (such as carnival) into the performances of the professional troupes was typical of the time. It is likely

that, in order to be recognised as a value within this new social context, or even in order to mask the mixture of popular and courtly expression, a new model of intermediate culture was introduced: the actress performing literature on the stage by translating the petrarchan codification of beauty and female fascination into new standards, in co-operation with the male comedians who continued to work in the tradition of popular comedy using the vernacular. Following this interpretation, as surprising and provocative as it might

sound, the actress’s arrival (in the 1560s) on a stage that was already occu-

pied by artists in search of professional skills is illustrative of a real need for

mediation between the high and low strata of art at this stage of cultural evolution. It is not surprising that the actress is almost always pictured, in addition to her theatrical performance, in the context of standardised activi-

ties concerning court literature: as a performer declaiming poetry, as a woman of letters, or as a cortigiana or meretrix honesta offering a venue for

literary debates.'* Being an ambassador of a new intermediate culture, the

comica (as the actress-cortigiana is called in contemporary writings) was — for a certain time at least — surrounded in the public psyche by a mystical aura. Needless to say, this fascinating power of ambiguity on stage and as a

public person was immediately explored by actresses such as Isabella Andreini, who elevated her status in society to the highest level ever achieved

by a non-member of court — as is evidenced by the praise of renowned poets such as Tasso and Guarini. The roots of this ambiguity in performance and perception, however, lay in the subgenre of the comedia and its use of characters with multiple and contradictory identities on the stage. Ambiguity,

humour, parody and rebellion against cultural commonplaces in Renais-

Sance comedy were to a certain extent indicative of changes in the public

acceptance of a leading culture phenomenon.

It is most significant that Isabella Andreini, in addition to her career as a performer, was active as a publisher of texts. Indeed, with her Mirtilla (1588) she contributed, as one of the first female authors, to the success of the pastoral as a new genre in the Italian Renaissance. After her death, her husband and troupe companion Francesco Andreini published her Letters in 1607, an exquisite example of how new professionals integrated the established (i.e. petrarchan) norm of the past in order to continue their innovative work on the basis of accepted written material, incorporating this into their scenic, less easily accepted, production. 15 Indeed both authors, authorities in vernacular poetry and drama, wrote poems in admiration of the actress’s abilities to portray a scene.

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PHILIEP BOSSIER

The mediation of ambivalence: prototypes in comedy For modern research, the conventional watershed of 1508 has been established as the canonical starting point for a new dramatic literature in the vernacular in Renaissance Italy. Indeed, with La Cassaria (The Coffin), the

first of Ludovico Ariosto’s comedie nuove — Italy’s new comedies — the prestigious avant-garde court of Ferrara gave the official signal of the emer-

gence of a new kind of elite culture. From the first decade of the sixteenth

century onwards, the cultural politics of the most innovative princes (the dukes of D’Este in Ferrara, the Gonzagas in Mantua, the dukes of Montefel-

tro in Italy’s first Renaissance-built palace — 1480 — in Urbino) was no longer exclusively concentrated on the imitation of classical texts from the Latin and Greek repertoire. Instead, the classical model now became a source of inspiration for an original

literature, written in Italian, and in

which linguistic self-consciousness was a leading principle. This was the birth of the comedia, in which dramatic plot, choice of characters and stage setting continued to be inspired by Latin playwrights such as Plautus or,

even more, Terence, albeit within a new context with specific references to

the cultural, political and social changes in early sixteenth-century Italy. The use of theatrical prototypes formed a striking characteristic of this production of texts in the vernacular. Within a large but at the same time always repetitive standard setting of characters in this new kind of comedy,

some pieces seemed to function between the ‘elastic’ borderlines of their definition-in-context. As a result, the characters were more flexible in their

‘stage’ behaviour, and seemed more difficult to incorporate into simple onedimensional interpretations of the type of person being portrayed. Moreover, these characters appealed to the audience in order to achieve more than a superficial, basic and exclusively linear reception of the scenes repre-

sented on stage. In short, in framing a very dynamic presence both in their physical movements on the stage and between the lines of the written text, these particular prototypes seemed to resist the literal interpretations of the

contemporary cultural codes.

Within the stock of characters, some functioned in a more ambivalent way than others. First of all, the pedant, absent from the Latin or Greek

models generally used as inspiration for the newly written texts for court entertainment, was a new subject on the Renaissance stage. As a theatre figure, he started to be used frequently from this cultural period onwards and seemed to function on more than one level in the literary codification of the comedia. Also, a second prototype can be identified as a frequent character in all the multiple variants of the early comedy, which, as a rule, always started from the usual and expected standard formula: the almost an-

ITALIAN ACTORS AS AGENTS OF REBELLION

181

cestral antagonism between tender young lovers longing for marriage and the narrow-minded but strong (because rich) world of older men and women opposed to this project, yet happily countered in their destructive aim by the intercession of an intermediate class of match-making servants. This Italian version of the Latin servus was based on former classical models, but also integrated its contemporary, more popular and regional variant, the so-called zanni (a Venetian abbreviation of ‘Giovanni’, Italy’s ‘Mr Evetybody’): a rude young man from the countryside of the Bergamasque mountains looking for a job as a street porter in the magnificent harbour of the Republic of Venice and willing to exceed any limit to obtain his goals of sex, money and, most importantly, food. The third stock character producing ambiguity within the text was the prologue, who was a theatrical inven-

tion on the threshold between text and paratext, introducing the audience to the argument about to be played. As such, he was the written instance both

inside and outside the text, as any actor would be who steps in or out of their role. Nevertheless, he did not completely fit with the comedy as a whole, as at a certain moment he left the scene. All these figures could express quite contrasting values. The pedant was the ultimate survivor and defender of antique Latin culture: he was the

prototype of the teacher, pictured in relationship to the pupil, and was the

focus for both transmitting consciousness of authority and acquiring knowledge. On the other hand, the pedant was continuously exposed to ridicule because of his lack of contemporary knowledge, his inappropriate language, which he did not seem to understand, his imperviousness to the sexual innu-

endo of his discourse and, on the moral side, his suspected susceptibility to

an ‘impure’ attitude towards his male students. The same kind of double picture applied to the zanni as a predecessor of the Harlequin: on the one hand, he stood for the stupid, rough and undistinguished fellow whom people could easily use for their own ends, but who still generally overcomes his opponents by exploiting all the talents he possesses as the ideal trickster.'° In the play, however, he was the symbol of inventiveness and of a fresh, new take on problem solving. The two characters were the extreme

opposites of each other: the latter symbolising all that can be dynamic and

16 As the zanni is a ridiculous mask coming from the mountains behind the rich Veneto area with Venice as the cultural epicentre, Harlequin is nowadays considered as the aesthetic improvement of his more peasant-like and rough ancestor in the tradition. Harlequin’s dramatic destiny would become significant internationally due to

the performances of Tristano Martinelli, his brother and other members of his troupe

during the 1570s-1580s in France and abroad. For the specific importance of Harlequin-Martinelli in northern Europe, see W. Schrickx, ‘Commedia dell’Arte Players

in Antwerp in 1576: Drusiano and Tristano Martinelli’, Theatre Research International 1 (1976), pp. 79-86.

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PHILIEP BOSSIER

new in society, with the creation of a new kind of language, and the former representing the old-fashioned and sterile model of communication which was losing its predominant position in the now bilingual (Latin/Italian) community of intellectuals and artists. If it is true that the coexistence of contrasting principles, as personified by the characters of the new Italian comedy, was constructed upon the same basis of scenic ambivalence, then it is interesting to note how ambivalence

also becomes a functional principle in the aesthetics of early modern Italy. Using a large spectrum of contrasting significations, ambivalence is then located as a counter-value to empty commonplace interpretations based on oppositional notions such as bad versus good, stupid versus intelligent, mas-

ter versus servant, or victim versus winner. Indeed, the way theatre used characters whose definitions, within the text, were ambiguous, shows us how important open rather than rigid definitions were in Renaissance soci-

ety. This insight certainly offers a better understanding of the complicated interaction between norm and exception in sixteenth-century culture.

183

toral experience of Isabella Andreini’s Mirtilla (1588), which can be con-

sidered as a way of positioning herself as an author in her own right. The

same is true for Flori, a very significant text (also 1588) by the Vicenzaborn noblewoman Maddelena Campiglia (1533-1595). What we can detect

behind the use of the typical format of the pastoral comedy is the way the

female author allows herself to deal, albeit behind the mask of scenic metaphor and double-bind in the text, with contemporary matters, such as mar-

riage, female writers or the capacity to organise one’s life freely. It is very striking that Campiglia uses the same strategies of embedded ambivalence we have already noted in the actresses’ work. Just like actresses, this author shows her literary professionalism by using all the possibilities offered by literary texts: metaphors, implicitness, appeal to the audience, reference to

established authority (Petrarch, once again, in the poems that precede the pastoral play). For all these reasons, Maddalena Campiglia occupies an em-

They did this by shaping a character that was difficult to define according to the simple and linear modes of interpretation which had been employed by

blematic position in the rich panorama of the cultural changes of the end of the Cinquecento. Her choice to practise a specific kind of literary genre is not a casual one: by implementing her text both within a traditional framework (the pastoral drama) and some not yet standardised borderlines (the female pastoral drama), Flori is pictured by the author as a text which does not fit in any standard classification. In fact, she prefers to work with a

miliar, actresses’ roles, given their non-linear nature, had the effect of producing troubling significations on the stage. As a result, the audience was

a lot of freedom for the author; for another, this fits perfectly with the central theme of her writing: giving ‘birth’ to a text is like giving life to a child, whose (literary) parenthood (as a woman) is here to be defended. So, what

From the moment of their arrival on the scene, actresses were involved

in the above-mentioned work of portraying these forms of scenic ambiguity.

their predecessors. As did the stock characters of the prologue, the zanni and the pedant, with whom the public in the meantime were becoming fainvited to react in the most inventive way possible. This is the reason why

some members of the audience, following the ecclesiastical authorities, did not accept the public exposure of unmasked female beauty and bodies, confusing the role of the actress with that of the prostitute, selling her body for money. Others, however, were capable of a more reflective reading of the

theatrical signs and went as far as to interpret the actress’s presence as a reincarnation of the sublime idea of beauty and magnificence in nature. A rebellion against poetic convention: the example of Maddalena Campiglia Negative commonplace

attitudes towards female acting are based on the

traditional confusion between ‘public performance’ and ‘public woman’. Significantly, people who opposed the introduction of professional theatre on a permanent basis in early modern society used this very confusion to condemn public theatre as such. A very interesting aspect of research is the question of how the female pastoral drama in early modern Italy was to confirm this general evolution. Indeed, I have already mentioned the pas-

genre in statu nascendi: for one reason, this position as an open text allows

is recommended in such a situation is reference to a currently accepted cul-

tural pattern. At the same time, this opportunity of ambivalence in genre patterns can be employed in a very useful way. Campiglia thus acts in a double way. On the one hand, reference to classical literature allows her to deal here with established auctoritates like Virgil or Tasso. On the other, pastoral drama creates the opportunity to formulate some statements of her own regarding the central nucleus of this textual tradition, i.e. the glorification of a wedding in an idyllic universe as the conclusive moment of restoration of peace and harmony after a previous period of turbulence all due to the devastating power of Eros. Most significantly, the use of two contrasting principles in both dedicatory letters accompanying her text is a confirmation of the underlying rhetorical strategy based on a double reading of the same standard pattern: one completely conventional letter is presented to a male

dedicatee, and another, in contrast, completely non-conformist, to a female companion. To Lady Isabella Pallavicino Lupi, Marchioness of Soragna,

she writes:

HH BS RARE ARR

184

PHILIEP BOSSIER

Sono tuttavia sicurissima che, sendo ella tanto virile nei pensieri e nelle opposizioni quanto donna nel bellissimo sembiante e negli onestissimi portamenti, aggradira questo mio rozzo parto, e la viva candidezza del cuore con che lo accompagno. Sogliono tutte le madri d’oggidi, dovendo far comparir fuori le loro figlie, comporle nella più leggiarda maniera che si sanno imaginare, ricercando a questo effetto i più riposti e astrusi cantoni dell’arte; che a me non giova di fare, procurando più tosto d’allontanarmi dall’ordinario costume donnesco.

But I am quite sure that you will be gracious enough to be pleased with this poor offspring of mine and with the keen and heartfelt affection that accompa-

nies it, for 1 know you to be as virile in your thoughts and deeds as you are

feminine in your beauty and the honesty of your manners. Mothers today, when they are sending their daughters out into the world, always dress them in the

finest way possible, drawing on all the most recondite and abstruse artifices at

their disposal. But this is not my way; on the contrary, I seek to depart from the

normal habits of woman [‘l’ordinario costume donnesco’].!”

As a counterpart, she addresses — albeit by stressing the conventional ‘obligation’ of this move — ‘The most illustrious Lord Curzio Gonzaga’ with the following: both a continuation of the previous image of the text as child and a reformulation of it with the addition of literary commonplace in referring to established authority. At its start, the letter follows convention:

Non mi pareva d’aver per aventura sodisfatto al debito del desiderio mio se,

mandando in luce questa mia favola boscareccia sotto il celebre nome della Si-

gnora Marchesa Pallavicina Lupi, non la raccomandavan’anco a Vostra Signo-

ria Ilustrissima, il cui valore è solo celato ai pochi stimatori della virtù.

Your Excellency, I felt that I should not have satisfied the obligation of my de-

sire if I had sent this pastoral play of mine out into the world under the famous name of the Marchioness Isabella Pallavicino Lupi without at the same time enpire it to your Lordship, whose valor is known to all those who prize vir-

tue.

Right after this initial, somehow sterile respect of ceremony, she comes to

rebel against literary commonplace when she invokes once more ‘her own

way”, intelligently interwoven with a small network of traditional references as guarantees for this unusual practice: TM. Campiglia, Flori, A Pastoral Drama: A Bilingual Edition, ed. V. Cox and L. Sampson (Chicago/London, 2004), pp. 44-45.

!8 Campiglia, Flori, pp. 46-47.

ITALIAN ACTORS AS AGENTS OF REBELLION

185

So che le opposizioni saranno molte; ma di questa sola far dovrei stima, che fatto avessi meglio spendere il tempo in scritti spirituali, si come avea comin-

ciato, sviando la mente da qualunque vano pensiero; se da Sant’ Agostino data non me ne fosse licenza con affermar che ogni sorte di virtù allontana l’uomo

dai vizi. Confesso parimente che la favola sia più secondo l’intenzion mia che le regole di coloro che hanno insegnato l’arte di questi poemi, perché gli episodi che si sono inseriti superano di lunghezza l’azion principale. Tuttavia, (...) ed essendone state composte da persone di qualche nome altre ancora, senza la piena osservazione dei precetti d’Aristotele e degli avvertimenti datici dai commentatori della sua poetica, io credero’ che questa, fatta da donna, e da donna forse poco atta a simile impresa, debba esser letta se non con lode, almeno con sopportazione. I know the poem will attract criticisms for all kinds of motives, but the only one I am prepared to take seriously is this: that it would be better for me to devote my time to writing religious works, as I have done in the past, and to turn my

attention away from all worldly considerations. I feel myself absolved on this

score, however, by none more then St Augustine, who maintained that all forms of virtuous activity serve to preserve us from vice. For the rest, I confess freely that I have composed the plot of this play more in accordance with my own tastes than with the prescriptions of those who have written theoretically on the genre of pastoral, for the various digressive episodes that have been introduced in fact occupy more space in the play than the principal action. In any case, (...) 1am not the first to compose such a play without following to the letter the precepts of Aristotle and the recommendations of his commentators; indeed, there are writers of some renown who are guilty of this same transgression. In view of this, it seems to me that a play written by a mere woman (and a woman, perhaps, ill-fitted for such an enterprise), deserves to be received, if not with generosity, at least with tolerance.!°

To conclude comes her provocative proposal of her text as her own natural daughter, of course once more a commonplace in its own right, but presented here as a weapon of both self-consciousness and autolegitimatisation of literary paternity/maternity: Accresca dunque Vostra Signoria (...) il primo obbligo che le tengo (...), con

questo secondo, degnandosi gradire il mio picciolo dono (...). Poiché non le posso dar cosa più cara di questa mia figlia, vera figlia, e naturale, di che principalmente mi godo.

? Campiglia, Flori, pp. 47-49.

ΕΙΣ

ΗΜ ΗΕ

ΕΙΣ ΕΕΣΞΕΣΕΡΕΡΕΕΣΡΙΣ ΣΕΡΕΕΞΗΣΈΓΕΙΤΈΡΕ ΕΕΤΈΤΕΕΤΕ ΣΕ GES

PHILIEP BOSSIER

186

But I hope, nonetheless, that you will grant me the further favour of accepting this little gift. (...) For I have nothing to give dearer to me than this daughter of mine: this true and natural daughter, the apple of my eye.”

As has been discussed in this paper, three elements of cultural change are

COMMONPLACES

IN SIXTEENTH-CENTURY ITALIAN YOUTH CONFRATERNITIES

here linked together in the same way that female performers managed to put

them together: the mediation of culture, the inscription of ambivalence or multi-interpretation, and the need to defend an alternative system in order to

create new dynamics within the contemporary culture. As a conclusion, the ascension of female performance by the 1560s in Italy can be interpreted as answering a structural need for mediation inherent in the literary field that resulted from a fading of the highly normative phase of Renaissance literature. Actresses played an important mediating role in the fusion of cultures within an openly structured space, and at the same time took a stand against negative, commonplace attitudes. Before conquering the rest of Europe as the ultimate demonstration of professional and modern theatre, female performance served an aim that far exceeded

that suggested by the traditional interpretation of this phenomenon as merely the promotion of a non-male alternative voice in Renaissance soci-

ety. In the same way, female practice on the stage and in writing shows us the fundamental importance of the culture of commonplaces as a crossroads of both sanctioned modes of thought and reference, and their being a starting-point for cultural renewal.

IN RELIGIOUS UPBRINGING

IACOPO ANSALDI AND THE COMPAGNIA DELL’ARCANGELO RAFFAELLO

Nils Holger Petersen! This chapter is concerned with the use of particular strategies for the basic

religious education of boys in sixteenth-century Italy. These strategies were related to newly formulated Jesuit practices for religious teaching of the unlearned but also have roots in practices introduced before the reformations of the sixteenth century.

I want to emphasise and discuss the use of ‘commonplaces’ in the practice of teaching doctrine in the late sixteenth century through a presentation of the Dottrina cristiana published by Iacopo Ansaldi in 1585 and other contextually relevant information. The term ‘commonplace’ had, of course, a specific use at this time: the /oci communes representing specific (rhetorical) traditions pertaining to the organisation of general knowledge and the teaching thereof.’ Neither the traditions for organising knowledge nor the way one traditionally drew up lists of authorities as support for the presented /oci in commonplace-books can be found in the same systematic way

in the printed books for the elementary teaching of catechism, usually entitled dottrina cristiana. However, it may be possible to see the use of com! The research for this chapter has been carried out in collaboration with Dr Eyolf Ostrem at the Centre for the Study of the Cultural Heritage of Medieval Rituals funded by the Danish National Research Foundation as a part of a joint project concerning lauda singing in the late Renaissance. See E. Ostrem and N. H. Petersen, ‘The Singing of Laude and Musical Sensibilities in Early Seventeenth-Century Confraternity Devotion’, Parts I and Il, The Journal of Religious History 28 (2004), pp. 276-291, and 29 (2005), pp. 163-176; E. @strem and N. H. Petersen, Medieval Rit-

ual and Early Modern Music: The Devotional Practice of Lauda Singing in LateRenaissance Italy (Turnhout, 2008). Although the material dealt with in this chapter is covered in more detail in our recent book, Eyolf Ostrem is not, of course, respon-

sible for this chapter, but it could not have been written without our collaboration, from which I have profited immensely. ? See A. Moss, Printed Commonplace-Books and the Structuring of Renaissance 20 Thidem.

Thought (Oxford, 1996).

188

NILS HOLGER PETERSEN

monly accepted notions and claims in a book for doctrinal teaching as a kind of generalised loci communes and thus to compare the uses in dottrine cristiane of notions and claims with well-established semantic meanings — referring to traditional musical thought and church music practices so as to establish authority — to the use of Latin commonplace-books and their function in Renaissance thought. In what follows, the term ‘commonplace’ will be employed in an extended way and broadly used in three areas in which the teaching of Christian doctrine can be said to build on such basic notions, claims, and authorisation: on the level of contents, on an ‘aesthetic’ level

concerning poetry and music, and on the level of arguments for the role of music and song in teaching. From its early years, the Jesuit order was concerned with the question of religious — and other — education. The most spectacular Jesuit contribution to European culture in the early modern period may very likely have been their schools. Along the way, the Jesuits developed new educational methods which also included the writing and use of school dramas and music. This had a fundamental impact on the further development of the European theatre. Formal school education had not been foreseen as a part of the Jesuit programme from the very beginning, but this task was taken up

within the first decade after papal approval of the order. By contrast, the concern for the basic instruction of children and unlearned adults in Chris-

tian doctrine was fundamental to the movement even before it was formally

established. The early constitutive Jesuit documents emphasise this task, and apparently Ignatius of Loyola had practised such teaching already in

1526. The Formula of the Institute, one of the fundamental documents of

the order, which was written up in 1540 and revised in 1550, already in the first edition indicates as one of the main purposes of the order ‘the instruc-

tion of young and uneducated persons in Christianity’.’ The influence of

Lutheran catechism on the Jesuit practices must be noted, although it seems that their catechisms were not normally polemical.‘ Although not polemical, the teaching practices to which I am referring had further purposes pertaining to the Counter-Reformation beside the fundamental aim of ‘giving instruction in Christian living and practice’: they were also meant to secure the Catholic Christendom and devotion and — with the same ultimate purpose -- to fight heresy.° The Jesuit concern with upbringing and education had important ramifications also for the religious teaching practices more generally in religious

COMMONPLACES

IN RELIGIOUS UPBRINGING

189

institutions of the Catholic Church in the later sixteenth century, including the so-called youth confraternities. This is the situation which will be discussed in the following, mainly through the example of Ansaldi’s Dottrina. However, it should be remembered that, at this time, youth confraternities had a long and well-established tradition of religious instruction. Indeed, the Jesuit concern with religious instruction should probably be seen as part of long-standing Catholic traditions which they emphasised and developed further.

During the fifteenth century, youth confraternities for boys of between approximately 13 and 24 years of age were established first in Florence. The interest in providing institutions for the religious upbringing of youths was seemingly connected to a new orientation which placed hope and trust in adolescents as a separate group. Most of these youth confraternities were so-called /audesi confraternities: they had religious ritual and devotional singing as their main objective. The rise of devotional singing in the vernacular in Tuscany and Umbria from the thirteenth century in the wake of religious revivals had given rise to large repertories of songs connected to lay confraternities, in the beginning monophonic but later also polyphonic; the individual item is usually referred to as a Jauda. These confraternities — and also the youth confrater-

nities from the fifteenth century onwards — were usually (more or less consistently) affiliated with one of the mendicant orders and were also to a high degree active in religious processions and productions of so-called sacre

rappresentazioni, religious plays which would also incorporate the singing of laude.° Richard Trexler — in a seminal article — has pointed to the role of

the Florentine youth confraternities as mediating a traditional culture of public politico-religious manifestation and the ‘new world of political authoritarianism’: These grave boys represented on the one side a world of private virtues, but on the other a hope of public salvation for families whose survival had been cus-

56; Barr, The Monophonic Lauda and the Lay Religious Confraternities of Tuscany and Umbria in the Late Middle Ages (Kalamazoo, MI, 1981), pp. 27-28; C. Barr,

“Music and Spectacle in Confraternity Drama of Fifteenth-Century Florence: The

Reconstruction of a Theatrical Event’, in: T. Verdon and J. Henderson, eds, Christi-

3 See J. W. O'Malley, The First Jesuits (Cambridge, MA, 1993), pp. 4-5 and 115126 (p. 116). * O'Malley, The First Jesuits, pp. 115-116 and 124. ® See O'Malley, The First Jesuits, pp. 125-126.

anity and the Renaissance: Image and Religious Imagination in the Quattrocento (Syracuse, NY, 1990), pp. 376-404 (pp. 389-390); N. Newbegin, ‘Politics in the Sacre rappresentazioni of Lorenzo’s

Lorenzo the (p. 119).

Magnificent:

Culture

Florence’,

and

in: M.

Politics

Mallett and N. Mann,

(London,

1996),

pp.

eds,

117-130

190

NILS HOLGER PETERSEN tomarily tied to processional prestige. To do this successfully, youthful asceti-

cism, not boyish miscreance was the order of the early Florentine Renaissance.’

In Trexler’s view, the youth confraternities had the primary task to ‘remove the boys from the chaos and spontaneity of the street, and to provide a leisure-time activity under competent direction which would aid the formation of a pious character’. It is not surprising, then, that instruction in the basics of Christian belief was important to these companies. Indeed, it seems likely that the concrete task of teaching basic Christianity to the young played an

important role in the decision to establish a youth confraternity. What is known as the first Florentine youth confraternity, the Compagni a dell’Arcangelo Raffaello (founded in 141 1), was later claimed (in the seven-

teenth century) — although documentation for this is not extant — to have been founded out of a personal commitment to teach Christian doctrine to youths.” In 1435, the Florentine humanist and general of the Camaldolan

order — a branch of Benedictine monasticism — Ambrogio Traversari , although not specifically mentioning the teaching of the doctrine, wrote to

Pope Eugenius IV (exiled in Florence) about the institution of youth confraternities, that the leaders of the city were ‘pleased to send their sons to be Sourished in this school and to be educated in this school of Christian vir-

tue.’

The Compagnia dell’Arcangelo Raffaello soon gave rise to another youth confraternity in Florence: the Compagnia della Purificazione della Vergine Maria e di San Zanobi, which in 1427 was hived off from its mother-confraternity. The earliest preserved statutes for this new confraternity were copied in 1439 and are still extant.!! They contain precise descriptions of a catechetical programme demanding that the Ten Commandm ents,

the twelve articles of faith, the seven mortal sins, the five bodily senses, the seven acts of mercy, the seven sacraments, the Paternoster, and the Ave

Maria should be learned by heart by all members of the confratern ity. !?

TR. C. Trexler, ‘Ritual in Florence: Adolescence and Salvation in the Renaissance’,

in: C. Trinkaus and H. A. Oberman, eds, The Pursuit of Holiness in Late Medieval and Renaissance Religion (Leiden, 1974), pp. 200-264 (p. 264). 8 Trexler, ‘Ritual in Florence’, p. 210.

91

Eisenbichler, The Boys of the Archangel Raphael: A Youth Confrate rnity in

Florence, 1411-1785 (Toronto, 1998), p. 128.

10 Transl. by Trexler, ‘Ritual in Florence’, p. 209, and quoted in Eisenbic hler, The

Boys, p. 29.

"' L. Polizzotto, Children of the Promise: The Confraternity of the Purification and

the Socialization of Youths in Florence 1427-1785 (Oxford, 2004), pp. 24-25 and 347-355.

” Polizzotto, Children of the Promise, p. 33.

COMMONPLACES IN RELIGIOUS UPBRINGING

19]

In 1417, Bishop Nicold Albergati had reformed the youths of the Com-

pagnia di 5. Girolamo in Bologna, giving them a catechism with much the

same topics and elements as just mentioned_!* In the Post-Tridentine era, the teaching of Christian doctrin e received a new emphasis in the Florentine sodalities which, however, ultimately re-

moved the Christian doctrine from the realm of traditi onal youth confraternities into newly founded schools of Christian doctrin e, scuole della dottrina cristiana, which, in principle, were to be establi shed in all parishes. This attempt to bring the catechetical programme — as well as other devo-

tional practices hitherto performed by lay confraternities — under a strict ecclesiastical control can be seen as part of an implementation of the reforms

of the Council of Trent followed up by a local Florentine council in 1573 15

It seems to have been a lengthy process: in 1585 only six such schools had

come into being in Florence. * Konrad Eisenbichler has called attention to

synods convoked by Archbishop Alessandro de’ Medici in 1610 and 1619 demanding, among other things, that the teaching of Christian doctrin e

should henceforth take place in the parish."* As late as the mid-seventeenth

century, however, the teaching of Christian doctrine is documented in the Compagnia dell'Arcangelo Raffaello, and it is mentioned in the revised Statutes of the company which were approved by the archbishop in 1636, specifically referring to a printed dottrina cristiana (of 1584) apparently

composed by the confratemity but no longer extant.!’

In 1577, the archbishop had appointed the layman Jacopo Ansaldi, guardian of the above-mentioned youth confraternity of the Purification 1580-1585, to oversee the teaching of Christian doctrine in all boys’ schools and companies in the diocese. In 1585, Ansaldi published his dottrina cristiana, which he himself described as being a revised edition of a Jesuit catechism by Giacomo Ledesma. Two years earlier, he had published a compilation of catechetical texts for the Purification confraternity in the form of

© N. Terpstra, Lay Confraternities and Civic Religion in Renaissance Bologna

(Cambridge, 1995), p. 21; Eisenbichler, The Boys, p. 128. "Ὁ. Aranci, Formazione religiosa e santita laicale a Firenze tra cinque e seicento: Ippolito Galantini fondatore della congregazione di San Francesco della dottrina cristiana di Firenze (1565-1620) (Florence, 1997), p. 113; Polizzotto, Children of the Promise, pp. 230-233. 6 Polizzotto, Children of the Promise, p. 232; Aranci, Formazione religiosa, p. 117.

1° K_ Eisenbichler, ‘Italian Youth Confraternities in an Age of Reform’, in: J. P.

Donnelly

and M.

W.

Maher,

eds, Confraternities and Catholic Reform

France, and Spain (Kirksville, MO,

in Italy,

1999), pp. 27-44 (p. 42); idem, The Boys,

Pp. 93-95 and 135-137. See also Aranci, Formazione religiosa, pp. 125-129, quoting

decisions (p. 126).

Eisenbichler, The Boys, pp. 129 and 135.

192

COMMONPLACES

NILS HOLGER PETERSEN

instruttione de the Discorsi spirituali et civili, Secondo il PCathecismo . per 18 -à . ν᾽ Giovani desiderosi far profitto nella vita Spirituale et Civile. The records of the company of the Archangel Raphael tell that on July 28, 1585

the priest Jacopo

Genovese

and lacopo

Ansaldi were

archbishop to visit the company. Apparently the point was confraternity to teach Christian doctrine in accordance with icy which Ansaldi represented. According to the entry, the tute guardian father Nicholò Antifassi answered that they

sent by the

to command the the general polassistant substiwould continue

their ordinary practice reading a tablet containing the doctrine aloud every day and sometimes giving a lesson based on it!” Eisenbichler understands the visit as insulting to the confraternity with its ‘own long tradition in such teaching and learning’, but believes the con-

fraternity to have won the day, since no instructor to teach doctrine at the company was appointed by Ansaldi.”°

The teaching of doctrine in the confraternity is highlighted by an earlier

entry in the confraternity ricordi (for Pentecost Sunday, 1582) which refers

to a printed sheet of paper — seemingly a doctrinal tablet such as the one mentioned in Antifassi’s answer. The record mentions how one of the

youths gave a lesson on carità, the third of the theological virtues (faith,

hope, and charity). Also a play is briefly introduced, and — highly unusually — a (part of the) text is given in the entry.”’ The play stages a youth playing Tobias; he is first encountered in a dialogue with another youth of the con-

IN RELIGIOUS UPBRINGING

The dialogue leads to an intercession which prompts the arrival of the figure of the Archangel Raphael who is accompanied by two angels and a choir singing in polyphony, un coro di Musica.” The didactic culmination of the play is clearly situated in the lines of the Archangel Raphael, who lets

the accompanying angels hand out a printed sheet (una carta stampata) to

everyone; its contents are described in the introduction to the play. Among other things, the Archangel Raphael has this to say about the paper: Ciascuno studi questo, ognun’ impari Per questo il modo del’ viver Christiano Per che questa non é se non la legge

Di Christo e di sua Chiesa a qual ciascuno Che desia di salvarsi è obligato.* Let everyone study this, let everyone learn through this the ways of a Christian life, because this is nothing but the law of Christ and of his Church, to which everyone

who wishes to be saved is beholden.

In the following lines, Raphael reproaches the youths for having neglected this:

fraternity who appears as rather disillusioned by its general state: “Gia son’

Mediante questa di gia i nostri antichi Lasciorno al’ mondo di lo’ buon’ odore

house’).

Havevi, che ogni giorno rosinasse Negl’orecchi d’ognun’ questi precetti Accio che ognuno li ritenesse a mente. Come volevi voi, che stessi in piede

sett’anni che con poco frutto / io fei l’entrata in questa santa casa’ (‘It has already been seven years with only little benefit since I started in this holy

18 See Aranci, Formazione religiosa, pp. 103-107; Polizzotto, Children of the Prom-

ise, pp. 229-230; Eisenbichler, The Boys, pp. 133-134.

19 This entry is found in the ricordi of the Archangel Raphael confraternity, preserved at the Archivio di Stato, Florence, under the shelfmark Compagnie religiose soppresse da Pietro Leopoldo (henceforth CRS) 155-165. These manuscripts have been consulted at the Archivio di Stato di Firenze during several visits to the archives between 1999 and 2005. See CRS 162, 22 (olim 21), fol. 66’. This entry is also transcribed in Aranci, Formazione religiosa, p. 376 (reading Antisassi instead of Antifassi), and paraphrased and discussed in Eisenbichler, The Boys, pp. 132-133.

”° Eisenbichler, The Boys, pp. 132-133, quotation on p. 132.

*! The entry is in CRS 162, 22 (olim 21), fols. 12-15". It is transcribed in Aranci,

Formazione religiosa, pp. 349-360.

7 CRS 162, 22 (olim 21), fol. 13"; Aranci, Formazione religiosa, p. 351. For a further description and discussion of the play, see also Eisenbichler, The Boys, pp. 205207.

193

E ordinaron bene, ma voi dismesso

Quest’ edifitio, senza Pietra?

Su la quale ὁ fondato questo luogo Fatto per introdurre i giovanetti Nella strada d’Iddio pe suoi precetti.” 3 ORS 162, 22 (olim 21), fol. 14°; Aranci, Formazione religiosa, p. 358. For the mention of the choir, see fol. 12’; Aranci, Formazione religiosa, p. 350. Concerning

the term musica at the time, see @strem and Petersen, ‘The Singing of Laude’, I, . 292-293. ; CRS

162, 22 (olim 21), fol. 15"; Aranci, Formazione religiosa, pp. 358-359. Eng-

lish translation from Eisenbichler, The Boys, p. 130. # CRS 162, 22 (olim 21), fol. 15"; Aranci, Formazione religiosa, p. 359. English

translation from Eisenbichler, The Boys, p. 130.

194

NILS HOLGER PETERSEN

Through this your forerunners already left in the world good reputation of themselves and they commanded well, and you have lapsed in this, that every day there should resound in your ears each of these precepts so that each of you may keep them in his mind. What did you expect? That this building would stand without this stone,

[this stone] on which this place was founded, for the purpose of introducing young men into the path of God through his precepts? The contents of the paper sheet are indicated in the introduction to the play: Li ΧΙ Articoli della fede: Credo in deum Patrem omnipotentem, creatorem celi et terre, et quel che seque: I X comandamenti della legge; I VII sacramenti della Chiesa; le III virtù Teologali; le IV virti Cardinali; i VII doni dello Spirito Santo; i XII frutti dello Spirito Santo; i II comandamenti della Carita; le VII

opere di Misericordia Temporali; li VII peccati Mortali. Segue di là [fol. 13°] Le 4 cose di dee ricordare contento il Christiano; Li V sentimenti del Corpo. Li comandamenti della Chiesa; Le cose da osservari dal’ buon Christiano; Le VI

peccati contro lo spirito Santo; Le otto Beatitudini.

LAUS DEO”

The twelve articles of faith: I believe in God the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth, and what follows [The Apostles’ Creed]; the Ten Commandments; the seven sacraments of the Church; the three theological virtues; the four cardinal virtues; the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit; the twelve fruits of the Holy Spirit; the two commandments of charity; the seven temporal works of mercy, the seven mortal sins. Continuing [next page] The four things a Christian must always keep in mind; the five senses of the body; the commandments of the Church, the precepts a good Christian must observe; the six sins against the Holy Spirit; the eight Beatitudes.

Although not exactly the same as in the early statutes of the confraternity of the Purification, nor, as we shall see, in the dottrina of Jacopo Ansaldi, the

6 CRS 162, 22 (olim 21), fols. 12°-13"; Aranci, Formazione religiosa, p. 350. See also Eisenbichler, The Boys, p. 130.

COMMONPLACES IN RELIGIOUS UPBRINGING

195

contents of the paper sheet described in the record for Pentecost 1582 consists of a list of basic items of the Catholic faith with the same function as the above mentioned tablet in the entry from July 1585. As Eyolf Ostrem and I have argued, it is not clear whether the company

was seen to have neglected the dottrina cristiana at the time of the visit of

Ansaldi and Genovese, as Eisenbichler seems to suggest.” The 1582 entry could indicate a renewal of the Archangel Raphael confraternity’s commit-

ment to teach the doctrine to the youths at that time. Possibly Ansaldi in

1585 simply acknowledged the teaching efforts of the company which — as mentioned — had also printed a Christian doctrine in 1584.

If the 1582 entry indicates a renewal of the confratemity’s practice of teaching Christian doctrine, it deserves attention that this renewal was an-

nounced through a play where also music figured prominently. Twice there is specific mention of the singing of a madrigal, although no information is

offered about the texts or music for these madrigals, sung during the play

and afterwards.” This brings to mind what several scholars have pointed

out: that the sacre rappresentazioni of youth confraternities constituted a fundamental didactic tool. As emphasised by, for example, Polizzotto, Eisenbichler, and Newbegin, this was doubtless the case in the fifteenth century, but the significance of the rappresentazioni remained to a high degree also after the Council of Trent, although the general attitude of ecclesi-

astical authorities had become more critical towards such practices.”

The described educational event in 1582 seems to have been a creative response to the recent demands for doctrinal teaching in religious common-

place formulae.

Although no precise information concerning the teaching in the confraternity during the following years is to be found, not least the descriptions of the tablets in 1582 and 1585 and the reference to the printing of a book for doctrinal teaching in 1584 make it likely that the teaching would have followed the same basic principles found in Ansaldi’s dottrina cristiana. Further, remarks about the catechism in the 1636 statutes point to the em-

ployment of elementary musical recitation for its teaching, just as we shall see in Ansaldi’s dottrina.”

# Eisenbichler, The Boys, p. 132; Ostrem and Petersen, Medieval Ritual and Early

Modern Music, pp. 143-144.

# CRS 162, 22 (olim 21), fols. 12’, 14", and 15°; Aranci, Formazione religiosa,

. 350, 358, and 360. Polizzotto, Children of the Promise, pp. 77-96 and 208-224; Eisenbichler, The Boys, pp. 198-234, esp. pp. 198, 221, and 224; Newbegin, “Politics in the Sacre rappresentazioni’

p. 119.

Eisenbichler, The Boys, p. 135.

196

COMMONPLACES

NILS HOLGER PETERSEN

In view of Ansaldi’s position in Florence in the 1580s, his book must

be considered as representative of the fundamental and prevailing materials and ideas about doctrinal teaching to boys. The small book contains the ‘doctrine’ mainly in the form of an account of basic Christian beliefs and claims, given by way of a dialogue between a teacher and a student, La Dottrina Per Dialogo, & per Canto, 6 per salmeggiare (‘The doctrine

for the Mass Introit on the first Sunday after Easter, Quasimodo geniti in-

fantes, alleluia: rationabiles sine dolo, lac concupiscite*® — Ansaldi refers to the publication of his book as reprinting Ledesma’s Dottrina so that the doctrine can be sung:

is anticipated by an Introduttione alla dottrina consisting primarily of a few

(...) per poterla cantare, ὁ salmeggiare ἃ Cori, ὁ solo con certe Laudi spirituali secondo l’opportunità. Perche questo s’é fatto per più ragioni.**

Patrem

omnipotentem (the Apostles’ Creed), and the Confiteor, all of which are given in Latin! First, however, the book presents several didactic introduc-

(...) so that it can be sung or chanted jointly or solo in conjunction with certain spiritual /aude according to the occasion. This has been done for several reasons.

tions about the purpose of the teaching of the doctrine and the methods to

be used in this teaching as well as a section citing grants of indulgence by Pope Pius V (1566-1572) and Pope Gregory XIII (1572-1585) for the teaching or learning of Christian doctrine. After the sections containing the doctrine, the book presents sections containing the order for the Vespers of the Virgin Mary, the Litanies of the Virgin Mary, and Litanies of Saints; these sections again are all in Latin. There follow two sections of Italian /aude:

Laude Da cantarsi (‘Laude to be sung’) and Lodi Da Cantarsi per i fanciulli della Dottrina Cristiana (‘Praises to be sung by the children for the Le

nets.

doctrine’). There follows, finally, a section on Christian man-

What is particularly interesting in this context is that the dialogue con-

cerning the dottrina is meant to be sung or chanted; there are, however, no

melodies or indications of how to sing it. As previously mentioned, Ansaldi’s Dottrina cristiana is based to a large extent on previous catechet-

ical publications, primarily the work of the Jesuit Giacomo, or Diego, Ledesma (1524-1575), who is mentioned in the letter of dedication to the

archbishop as well as in one of the introductory sections. Under the Latin headline Quasi modo geniti infantes lac concupiscite (‘Like newborn infants, long for the milk’), doubtless refering to 1 Peter 2.2, sicut modo geniti infantes rationale sine dolo lac concupiscite ut in eo crescatis in salutem *! Note that the Apostles’ Creed seems to have been given in Latin also in the printed sheet at the confraternity of the Archangel Raphael in 1582; see n. 26 above.

197

(‘Like newborn infants, long for the pure, spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow into salvation’) — probably by way of the beginning of the text

through dialogue and to be sung or chanted in the manner of psalms’). This basic texts, the Pater noster, the Ave Maria, the Credo in Deum

IN RELIGIOUS UPBRINGING

In the words of John O’Malley, Ledesma ‘was another great architect of the educational program for the Jesuit schools’. He was influenced by Petrus Canisius (1521-1597) and published a Dottrina christiana with' instructions for doctrinal teaching in 1573; this was reprinted several times.” Towards the end of his Quasi modo section, Ansaldi refers to two Doctrines by Ledesma: the Dottrina piccola, the ‘small doctrine’ and the Dottrina grande,

the ‘big doctrine’. For Ansaldi, they correspond to spring and autumn, the

first for small children, the second for the older and more mature. What is presented in Ansaldi’s 1585 edition is the ‘spring’. Although he announced

it, no edition by Ansaldi of the big doctrine is known.*° The idea of singing or chanting the doctrinal statements of the catechisms goes back to Jesuit catechetical practices in the 1550s. Such a practice of teaching Christian doctrine in song was confirmed at the First General Congregation of the order.*’ It is further corroborated by a document,

Avvisi per li nostri prencipalmente: 3 M.

Sodi, and A.

M.

Triacca,

del modo de insegnare la dottrina

eds, Missale Romanum:

editio princeps

edizione anastatica, introduzione e appendice (The Vatican, 1998), p. 364.

(1570),

3 Ansaldi, Dottrina cristiana, p. 12. Also in Aranci, Formazione religiosa, p. 366. Aranci reprints the letter of dedication as well as the Quasi modo section (idem,

ΡΡ. 363-367). O'Malley, The First Jesuits, p. 124. Concerning Ledesma’s methods, see Ostrem

The book has been consulted at the Biblioteca Nazionale, Florence, at shelf mark Misc. 10.2 (in the Magliabechiano collection): I. Ansaldi, Dottrina cristiana.

and Petersen, Medieval Ritual and Early Modern Music, pp. 57-65. See, further, Aranci’s discussion of the close relation between Ansaldi’s volume and Ledesma’s two

Cardinal di Compagnie cerpts from appendix I,

Archbishop of Florence, Cardinal Alessandro de’ Medici (Aranci, Formazione re-

Nuovamente Ristampata,

& publicata per ordine dell'Illustriss.

& Reverendiss.

Firenze. Da insegnarsi, & esercitarsi dalli Curati, & Guardiani delle de’ Fanciulli della suo Diocesi per publica utilita. (Florence, 1585). Exsome of the introductions are reprinted in Aranci, Formazione religiosa, nos. 7-8, pp. 363-367. See also Eisenbichler, The Boys, pp. 133-134;

Polizotto, Children of the Promise, pp. 230-231.

Dottrine,

to which

ligiosa, pp. 103-106).

Ansaldi

makes

s Ansaldi, Dottrina cristiana, pp.

explicit reference

in his dedication

15-16; Aranci, Formazione

367, see also p. 106. O'Malley, The First Jesuits, pp. 121-122.

to the

religiosa, pp. 366-

198

NILS HOLGER PETERSEN

christiana alli nostri scolari et αἱ popolo, ‘Notices Mainly for our Members: On the Manner of Teaching Christian Doctrine to our Students and to the People’, contained in a small volume, probably authored by Giacomo Ledesma between 1560 and 1565, which is kept in the Archivio generale della Compagnia di Gesù. In chapter 3 (Del principio et modo di incominciare ad insegnar la Dottrina Christiana, ‘On the Principle and Manner of Beginning to Teach the Christian Doctrine’), it is clearly stated that the doctrine is sung as a matter of course.** Concerning the first lesson, we read —

COMMONPLACES IN RELIGIOUS UPBRINGING

7. 8.

9.

among other points — that it must be explained why the doctrine is taught by song:

(...) cioè perché li putti cosi più facilmente imparano, et che quelli che non sanno parlare et quelli che non sanno leggere, et li rozzi d’ingegno, rustici, donne, etc. et perché più si conferma la memoria et perché in luogo di canzoni brutte che si sogliono cantare, si cantino cose sante e buone, et vi habbiamo essempio nella primitiva chiesa che cantavano hinni matutini et vespertini, et per

lodare Iddio in ogni modo, et anche per queste et simili altre cause hoggi di canta la chiesa le cose sacre.” (...) this is because the boys can more easily learn it, and because those who are not able to speak and those who are not able to read and the untalented, the peasants, women, etc., can more readily memorise it, and because instead of bad songs which they used to sing, they will sing something holy and good; and there is the example of the early Church where hymns were sung in the morning and the evening and to praise God in all ways, and for these and other similar reasons also today the Church sings the holy matters.“

These are fundamentally the same reasons given in Ansaldi’s Quasi modo

section, formulated in a slightly different way and divided into ten, not al-

συ Ὅλ BS ie

ways consistently disjunct, points:

The doctrine is more easily learned and remembered. Children and youths are happier to learn.

Those who can hardly speak or read can learn through singing.

It is less time-consuming since all sing at the same time and willingly. It helps to avoid wicked songs (cattivi canti). Those who hear the singing without attending the teaching will learn it.

35 The text is introduced and reprinted in Aranci, Formazione religiosa, pp. 343-349 . 346). ey

Formazione religiosa, pp. 346-347.

40 My translation.

10.

199

Through the songs, they learn to sing doctrine and praise God. It belongs to the practice of the Catholic Church. Ansaldi refers to the night office, the divine office, and the use of hymns, psalms, and canticles. In particular, there is mention of the praises of the three ‘boys’

(putti) in the furnace (Daniel 3) teaching the world a longing for singing, blessing, and praising God. The singing of doctrine imitates the Angels in Heaven who continuously sing ‘Holy Holy’ to God. Reference is made to the entrance of

Jesus into Jerusalem, to King David, and to Saint Paul’s exhortations to sing hymns. Practices in Florence show the impact of the singing of the boys, girls,

women, etc., who not only stay at home to sing /aude but publicly perform the spiritual songs (/e Laudi spirituali), going around like choirs of angels, ‘et con queste dolcezze si levano da infinite cattive usanze mundane’ (‘and with these sweet practices removing infinite amounts of bad worldly practices’). It is obvious that Ansaldi does not present new arguments. He relies on authority and tradition in a way that may be compared to the commonplacebooks but also shows clear differences. There is no strictly formalised way

of arranging quotations from earlier authorities. Whereas quotations or commonplaces in commonplace-books were gathered under headings,” Ansaldi simply calls upon the authority of traditional catechisms written by well-known theologians by mentioning their works as standing behind his own. He points to ‘le Dottrine del Ledesma, et la Dottrina Fiorentina, quella di Bologna, et altre Dottrine, et Catechismi fatti da famosissimi Padri Teologi Cattolici’ (‘the Doctrines of Ledesma, the Florentine Doctrine, the one

from Bologna, and other Doctrines and Catechisms written by famous Catholic Theologian Fathers’).° The references are of a general nature, normally not given as quotations; as ultimate authorities, Ansaldi, unsurprisingly, refers to biblical statements and to the practices of the Church. Some of the biblical references, especially concerning the imitation of the song of the angels and the notion of dolcezza (‘sweetness’) as a characteris-

tic for spiritual song, have roots in liturgical commentary at least as far back as Carolingian times.“ Although there is no consistent systematic organiza-

4 Ansaldi, Dottrina cristiana, pp. 10-15; Aranci, Formazione religiosa, p. 366. See

further the general contextualization in @strem and Petersen, Medieval Ritual and Early Modern Music, pp. 43-86, esp. pp. 63-69. ‘2 Moss, Printed Commonplace-Books, Preface, p. v. % Ansaldi, Dottrina cristiana, p. 16; Aranci, Formazione religiosa, p. 367. “4 See A. Ekenberg, Cur cantatur: die Funktionen des liturgischen Gesanges nach

den Autoren der Karolingerzeit (Stockholm, 1987), e.g. pp. 42-46, 51, and 171-178;

also N. Η. Petersen, ‘Carolingian Music, Ritual, and Theology’, in: N. H. Petersen,

NILS HOLGER PETERSEN

200

tion of loci, there is standardisation involved. The above cited arguments for using song as a means for teaching the doctrine are used again and again in printed books for the doctrine and in prefaces for printed collections of laude in very similar formulations. As already pointed out, in the end the

fundamental authorities are always the same: the Church and its practices,

and the Fathers, and then in practice also previous books for teaching the

doctrine.*

After the introductory explanatory texts and the /ntroduttione alla

dottrina, the basic Latin doctrinal texts, the dialogical doctrine begins in the

following manner:

INCOMINCIA LA DOTTRINA Per Dialogo, & per Canto, è per salmeggiare. M. Cominciamo nel nome del Sig. Iddio. D.

Sere voi Cristiano? Sono per gratia del N Sig. Giest Cristo.

M.

Che cosa é Cristiano?

D.

Il Cristian’e per gratia: Del nostro Signor Giest Cristo.

Et è suo discepolo: E vero imitatore: Ch’essendo battezzato: Crede, e fa

profession della sua legge. M. D.

Che intendete voi che sia Cristo? E vero Dio, & vero Huomo.**

HERE BEGINS THE DOCTRINE in Dialogue and in Song, or Chanted like Psalms. Teacher: Let us begin with the name of the Lord God. Are you a Christian? Student: I am by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Teacher: What does it mean to be a Christian? Student: One can only be a Christian by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. A Christian is his disciple. Indeed, his imitator. This is what it

means to be baptised: Believe, and profess his law. Teacher:

What do you think of Christ?

Student:

He is true God and true Man.

M. B. Bruun, J. Llewellyn, and E. Ostrem, eds, The Appearances of Medieval Ritu-

als: The Play of Construction and Modification (Turnhout, 2004), pp. 13-31 (pp. 20-

21).

# A list very similar to the one cited here from Ansaldi’s book is quoted (and translated) from a preface to a /auda collection intended for the teaching of the doctrine (Milan 1576) in @strem and Petersen, Medieval Ritual and Early Modern Music, . 43-44, Ansaldi, Dottrina cristiana, p. 25.

COMMONPLACES IN RELIGIOUS UPBRINGING

201

From the rubric Per Dialogo, & per Canto, 6 per salmeggiare, ‘in dialogue and in song, or chanted in the manner of psalms’, it seems likely that this must have been carried out in a recitativic formulaic chanting as in the psalmody of the divine office. This seems to be corroborated by the consistent claims in the Jesuit tradition that the sung doctrine made it easy for non-educated children (and/or women) to carry it out in praxis and that this

actually ‘worked’. A collection of Jaude from the early seventeenth century, printed in Naples, contains, in a final appendix, two pages of short and simple musical formulae under the heading Compendio delle cose più necessarie della Dottrina Christiana (‘Compendium

of things necessary for the Christian

Doctrine’).*” The compendium lists basic texts for doctrine, among them the Apostles’ Creed, the Pater noster, the Ten Commandments, and further texts

of the kind found in the catechetical writings of the fifteenth and sixteenth

centuries. The texts listed for the use of dottrina christiana are all given in Italian, the Creed and the Pater noster in both Latin and Italian. All the texts

are divided up into short lines, each of them carrying a number which refers to one of the melodic formulae printed on the last two pages of the book. In this way, it becomes possible to piece together the melodies for all the various texts. Needless to say, the melodies constructed in such a way are very

simple. There is no indication, in the Naples book, of melodies for a doctrine in dialogue. It does, however, give a hint of how one could arrange simple settings of almost any text by way of a formulaic melodic system. It appears as a fairly crude device, but one that has much in common with the

way modern musicologists have tried to understand at least certain early set-

tings of liturgical music as formulaic in its structure.”

The poems and musical settings for the laude constitute a very different area from the traditional materials of doctrine. As mentioned, the /auda became a part of the traditions of the Church during the later Middle Ages by

way of the religious revivals of the thirteenth century and the confraternities which seem to have grown out of these popular movements.” What is ‘7 T. Longo, ed., Lodi et Canzonette spirituali (Naples, 1608), the last part of the book, pp. 14-24 (the last pages lack pagination). For a discussion and exemplification of this compendium, see @strem and Petersen, Medieval Ritual and Early Mod-

ern Music, pp. 61-65. In this context, it is important to note that the title page contains the emblem of the Society of Jesus.

48 L. Treitler, With Voice and Pen (Oxford, 2003), esp. pp. 186-201.

49 See above n. 6. I further refer to B. Wilson, Music and Merchants: The Laudesi Companies of Republican Florence (Oxford, 1992) and M. Dürrer, A/titalienische Laudenmelodien: das einstimmige Repertoire der Handschriften Cortona und Florenz, 2 vols. (Kassel, 1996).

202

COMMONPLACES IN RELIGIOUS UPBRINGING

NILS HOLGER PETERSEN

mainly important to note is that, by the fifteenth century, the /auda had become a devotional art form to which high ranking poets of the day contrib-

uted. The /auda had its most important place in confraternity devotions but, as mentioned earlier, the involvement of confraternities — and among these

prominently the youth confraternities — in public rituals and performances, notably the sacre rappresentazioni, in the city meant that the /auda was also heard outside the more or less secluded rituals of the confraternities. One of the most commonly sung /aude of the fifteenth century was the Giesù, Giesù, Giesù, ognun chiami Giesi by the Florentine poet Feo Belcari (1410-1484). It is found in many collections of /aude, also those pertaining

to dottrina christiana and included among the Jodi for the children in Ansaldi’s volume.*’ The commonly employed melody in lauda collections, such as, for instance, the influential collection of Serafino Razzi from 1563,

is adapted from a carnival song from the 1470s, as Patrick Macey has argued.°! Ansaldi’s book, unfortunately, gives no melodic information at any point, but the books for teaching doctrine generally give one same musical setting, different from Razzi’s.© Here is the text of the first stanza:

203

and experience how it is sweet and merciful;

whoever calls it faithfully, feels Jesus in his heart.

Commonplace imagery stands out in this text: heart and mind, sweet and merciful, as well as, of course, the use of the name of Jesus itself as a mean-

ingful exclamation in its own right; the latter explained by reference to the

medieval and Catholic devotion to the Holy Name of Jesus which can be

traced back to the Council of Lyons in 1274 and was propagated by confraternities also in Florence.** Belcari was the most important poet of /aude in fifteenth-century Florence and belonged to the Company of San Zanobi.” The single stanza given here may stand as representative of the literary lauda style at the time which remained dominant also in the sixteenth century. The late medieval or Renaissance tradition of devotional /aude in-

cludes more or less similar texts by literary figures of the fifteenth century who were generally perceived as radically different: the statesman, businessman, and poet Lorenzo the Magnificent (1449-1492) and the controver-

Giesù, Giest, Giesu,

sial religious reformer Girolamo Savonarola (1452-1498). The poems of the

Ognun chiami Giesù. Chiamate questo nome

also to established patterns of emotional expressions which, in their particu-

col core e colla mente, E sentirete come, Egli é dolce e clemente, Chi ’1 chiama fedelmente, Sente nel cor Giesù.”? Jesus, Jesus, Jesus,

let everyone cry out Jesus. Call this name with heart and mind,

°° Ansaldi, Dottrina cristiana, pp. 84-86, in which seven stanzas are printed.

51 P. Macey, Bonfire Songs: Savonarola’s Musical Legacy (Oxford, 1998), pp. 4447. See also n. 52 below. * See Ostrem and Petersen, Medieval Ritual and Early Modern Music, pp. 114-115; however, the musical setting (pertaining to dottrina books) given in figure 16 (p. 114) is not from Ansaldi’s Dottrina cristiana as indicated in the caption and in footn. 40 (p. 115). Mistakenly, Ansaldi’s work was indicated here instead of the cor-

rect reference: Lodi devote per uso della Dottrina Christiana (Genoa, 1589), pp. 23, cf. n. 39 on p. 113. °3 Translation quoted from Macey, Bonfire Songs, p. 47. The abovementioned musical setting found in Razzi’s collection is transcribed on p. 45.

songs of this repertory relate not only to traditional theological concepts but lar religious contexts, were doubtless semantically meaningful and not considered as mere clichés. This follows from our knowledge of the individual

social contexts in which the laude were sung: devotional confraternity rituals (offices and processions) and devotional doctrinal teaching in addition to private devotions. In all such contexts, the laude were used as a medium for

active religious participation of laymen with an emphasis on their own responsibility for their salvation. There is a continuity to be seen here with the

revivals of the thirteenth century which brought about the /auda singing in

the first place.”° Girolamo Savonarola’s predilection for popular /auda singing and his occasional denunciations of polyphonic ‘art song’ in sermons from the time of his — unofficial — rule in Florence (c.1494-1498) form at least part of the

background for the general sixteenth-century decline in the professional

polyphonic confraternity /auda traditions, which may seem connected to the

# See the article ‘Society of the Holy Name’ in The Catholic Encyclopedia Online, , last accessed October 25, 2008. 38 Wilson, Music and Merchants, p. 176.

% See Wilson, Music and Merchants, pp. 183-192; Ostrem and Petersen, Medieval Ritual and Early Modern Music, pp. 15-42 (esp. pp. 40-42) and 119-63 (esp. pp. 119-21).

204

NILS HOLGER PETERSEN

general Florentine crisis in the early decades of the century.*’ Patrick Macey has shown how the simple, monophonic or homophonic, Savonarolan /auda

tradition became dominant in the sixteenth century in basic accordance with

prevalent views on music in the Catholic reform movement. The Florentine Dominican friar, and biographer of Savonarola, Serafino Razzi (1531-1611) published his first collection of laude, the Libro primo delle laudi spirituali in 1563. In the same year, Giovanni Animuccia (1500-1571) published his

first collection of /aude in Rome. The continuity between Razzi’s volume and the Roman /auda tradition of the Oratorians of Filippo Neri (15151595), in which Giovanni Animuccia was strongly involved as their first

maestro di cappella (from the 1550s until his death), has been underlined in recent scholarship.**

In the records of the Compagnia dell'Arcangelo Raffaello there is a scarceness of indications concerning the singing of /aude. This can be ex-

plained in a number of ways and does not necessarily mean that /auda sing-

ing was a rare event. On the contrary, it seems likely that certain practices were so common as only rarely to have led to any specific mention in the records. This is the impression one gets from some of the preserved information about the activities of the confraternity, From 1563 to 1785 (when three out of the four oldest youth confraternities, including the Archangel

Raphael, were closed), the ricordi of the Archangel Raphael confraternity are preserved for most years. These records are kept in the State Archives of

Florence together with the preserved statutes of the company. However, due to the flood in Florence in 1557, the earliest extant statutes from 1468 are so damaged by water as to be almost completely illegible. A readable and even

certified copy of the 1468 statutes from 1560 has, however, been preserved. As mentioned earlier, completely revised statutes were made in 1636; these

are also extant.”

”7 Concerning Savonarola and music, the most important recent contribution is

Macey, Bonfire Songs. For the early sixteenth-century decline, see Wilson, Music and Merchants, pp. 87-88, 126-127, and 220-221; Barr, The Monophonic Lauda, p. 30. For a discussion of the so-called ‘crisis’ theory, see N. Eckstein, ‘The Reli-

gious Confraternities of High Renaissance Florence: Crisis or Continuity’, in: F. W. Kent and C. Zika, eds, Rituals, Images, and Words: Varieties of Cultural Expression in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe (Turnhout, 2005), pp. 9-32.

° H. E. Smither, A History of the Oratorio, I (Chapel Hill, 1977), pp. 37-57; Macey,

Bonfire Songs, pp. 135-149; I. Fenlon, Music and Culture in Late Renaissanc e Italy (Oxford, 2002), chapt. 3, pp. 44-66; @strem and Petersen, Medieval Ritual and

Early Modern Music, pp. 87-112.

”’ Archivio di Stato, Florence: The statutes (of 1468, 1560, and 1636) are found un-

der the shelfmark Capitoli delle CRS 882, 752, and 627. See also notes 17 and 19

above.

COMMONPLACES

IN RELIGIOUS UPBRINGING

205

Devotional singing played an important role in the life of the confrater -

nity from its beginning. As underlined by Eisenbichler, the 1468 statutes, as

known via the 1560 copy, refer primarily to the singing of Latin hymns and

canticles (the Te Deum, the Magnificat, and so forth), whereas the singing

of /aude is not strongly emphasised. The reason for this may be, as Eisen-

bichler suggests, that the educational purpose of a youth confraternity entailed a stronger emphasis on Latin singing.” This would accord well with the prevalence of Latin materials in the teaching of the doctrine as treated

above.°!

However, in chapter eight of the 1560 statutes, identical to those of 1468, describing the meetings of the confraternity, the tornata, the singing of laude as ἃ standard practice, is mentioned before the beginning of the service: one of the youths is supposed to read from the Bible on the guardian father’s command or to sing a /auda or a psalm.” The following chap-

ter, giving the general order of the service, also states that laude, among

other devotional items, are sung when ‘it pleases the guardian father’© In the 1636 statutes, by contrast, the singing of /aude is not mentioned at all. Instead, the singing of psalms is repeatedly mentioned as well as

other references to the traditional Latin liturgy, such as the Office of the Dead and the celebration of the Eucharist. This may well reflect the implementation of attitudes from the Catholic reform movement, but it does not

follow that aude were not performed.™ During the sixteenth century, music and musical education seem to

have become

increasingly important for the confraternity. Generally, per-

formances of music and drama seem to have been essential to at least the oldest youth confraternities in Florence. This comes to the fore in remark-

able ways, not the least in the records of the Archangel Raphael confrater-

nity. Around 1600, leading Florentine intellectuals and musicians were members of, or closely associated with, the confraternity and contributed to its sometimes lavishly produced ceremonies, which, at times, also featured productions of sacred representations. Musico-dramatic performances, as it seems in the new stilo rappresentativo developed in the Florentine acad-

emies of the late sixteenth century under the sponsorships of Giovanni Bardi and Jacopo Corsi, were carried out in the confraternity at least since

1585, that is thirteen years before Jacopo Peri’s and Ottavio Rinuccini’s See Eisenbichler, The Boys, pp. 236-238.

‘l See n. 31 above. 4 Capitoli delle CRS 752, fol. 8°. See also Eisenbichler, The Boys, p. 139.

63 CRS 752, fol. 8”.

4: Capitoli delle CRS 627. esp. xxv-xxviii. See Eisenbichler, The Boys, pp. 141-143, cf. pp. 108 and 238.

206

NILS HOLGER PETERSEN

COMMONPLACES IN RELIGIOUS UPBRINGING

Dafne, probably performed in Florence in 1598 and traditionally claimed as ‘the first opera’. Also, as a part of the so-called tornata, the traditional devotional meet-

ings in the Raffaello confraternity, artful music appears often and is recognised as such with obvious joy and pride by the scribes of the ricordi. This has been recognised by scholars for some time. However, Eyolf Ostrem and

I have recently discussed what can be described as the aesthetics of religious rituals in the Arcangelo Raffaello confraternity, as it comes to the fore

through entries in the ricordi of the company.” Certain changes around 1600 seem to make such ‘religious aesthetics’ more pronounced after c.1600, but the records also show the importance of artful music already in the 1580s as an integral part of the rituals. By the late sixteenth century, to be a member of the Arcangelo Raffaello also meant being part of an intellectual and cultural elite. Its members included an impressive range of art-

ists in all arts.’ The role of artistry in the ricordi of the confraternity of the

Archangel Raphael shows that this confraternity cannot readily be seen as

covered by the Savonarolan legacy. The complaints of Serafino Razzi in his second published collection of /aude (with annotations), the Santuario di laudi from 1609, about the lack of devotion of the ‘moderni’ could well

have been directed against practices such as those reflected in the ricordi of the Archangel Raphael confraternity (Razzi refers to himself in the third person):

207

Diremo ancora, come il Padre Fra Serafino Razzi pregato questo anno 1603 ha composto tre hinni latini, con tutto l’altro officio di questa serva di Dio per sua divozione, e per sodisfare alla pia mente di chi appresso di lui ne ha fatto instanza, e per recitarlo privatamente che ben sappiamo i moderni oggi per lo piu desiderare cose squisitissime, & in cui sia piu elevazione, che divozione, e che

piu habbiano di scolorosita, e difficulta a intendersi, che di semplicita christiana, e di pietà popolare.®

We will also recount how the Father Fra Serafino Razzi, upon request in the year 1603, composed three Latin hymns with all the rest of the office for this servant of God [i.e. Margarita da Citta di Castello], for her devotion and to satisfy the pious mind of him who had requested it, and to be recited in private; for we

know

well that the moderns

today mostly desire the most exquisite

things, where there is more elevation than devotion; which are colourless and

difficult to understand, and lack Christian simplicity and popular piety.

The sudden and unprecedented frequency with which what must have been simple traditional monophonic /aude are mentioned in the ricordi during the summer of 1632 in connection with the teaching of Christian doctrine by Lorenzo Vanni in the confraternity deserves a brief comment in this context. These records may describe a particularly important example of something that, in more or less similar ways, had gone on at least since the

early or mid-1580s (as discussed previously). The descriptions of the teaching in these records accord well with the impressions of the doctrinal teaching in Ansaldi’s book and the Jesuit traditions as discussed above. In view

65 Eisenbichler, The Boys, esp. pp. 235-236; J. W. Hill, ‘Oratory Music in Florence, I: Recitar Cantando, 1583-1655, Acta Musicologica 51 (1979), pp. 108-136, esp.

pp. 110-112; E. Strainchamps, ‘Music in a Florentine Confraternity: The Memorial Madrigals for Jacopo Corsi in the Company of the Archangel Raphael’, in: K.

Eisenbichler, ed, Crossing the Boundaries: Christian Piety and the Arts in Italian Medieval and Renaissance Confraternities (Kalamazoo, MI, 1991), pp. 161-178; N.

H. Petersen, ‘Intermedial Strategy and Spirituality in the Emerging Opera: Gagli-

ano’s Dafne and Confraternity Devotion’, in: E. Hedling and U.-B. Lagerroth, eds, Cultural Functions of Intermedial Exploration (Amsterdam, 2002), pp. 75-86;

Ostrem and Petersen, ‘The Singing of Laude’, I, p. 279. For a general (traditional) history of the beginnings of opera, see R. Donington,

The Rise of Opera (London,

1981) and F. W. Sternfeld, The Birth of Opera (Oxford, 1993). For a presentation of the newfound knowledge as well as a discussion of the implications, see @strem and

Petersen, Medieval Ritual and Early Modern Music, pp. 201-256.

° Gstrem and Petersen, ‘The Singing of Laude’, I-II, esp. I, pp. 287-297. See also Ostrem and Petersen, Medieval Ritual and Early Modern Music, pp. 130-36; Eisen-

bichler, The Boys, pp. 198-269, chapts. 16-19 on theatre, music, and art in the confraternity; Hill, ‘Oratory Music in Florence, I’. 561 Eisenbichler, The Boys, p. 123.

of the events recorded in 1582 and 1585 — and the reference in the 1636 statutes to the dottrina book of the confraternity from 1584 — it seems unlikely that teaching sessions in accordance with such descriptions should not have occurred frequently in the later 1580s and 1590s. On

the other hand,

the doctrinal

event on Pentecost

Sunday,

1582

seems to show an altogether different approach to such teaching, although it is in complete agreement with the demands of the ecclesiastical authorities concerning the basic contents.” This approach was clearly very much in 68 Razzi, Santuario di laudi (Florence, 1609), p. 224. See Ostrem and Petersen, ‘The Singing’, IL, p. 171, from where the translation is taken. See also Ostrem and Peter-

sen, Medieval Ritual and Early Modern Music, p. 76.

69 CRS 162, 24 (olim 23), fol. 41" (Sunday May 23), fol. 41° (Sunday May 30), fol.

42' (Sundays June 13 and 20), fol. 42° (Sundays June 27 and July 4), and fol. 43° (Sunday July

11). See the general discussion of Vanni’s teaching activities in the

confraternity in Eisenbichler, The Boys, pp. 134-136, and a fuller discussion of the entries in @strem and Petersen, Medieval Ritual and Early Modern Music, 146-48. 70 See above, n. 21-26.

ἘΠΞΗΤΕΡΕΕΕΤΕΣΗΓΥΕΣΕΕΣΕΕΤΕΡΕΣΙΣ MA EEE EL

208

E

ee >

NILS HOLGER PETERSEN

line with the confraternity’s traditional emphasis on drama, artful music, and other artistry. It seems that the confraternity continued to see its devo-

CHOREOGRAPHY AS COMMONPLACE

tional uses of artful music and drama as its most important activities; one

may speculate that the commonplaces of dottrina cristiana in the newly demanded forms may have been understood to be necessary but less rewarding, less richly formulated, in other words closer to religious cliché. By

Barbara Ravelhofer'

1632, however, since doctrinal instruction had for the most part been taken

over by the scuole della dottrina cristiana, such activities may have been seen in a new light again.

(...) mas gloriosa es La destreza de los pies Que la fuerça de las manos. (Francisco Navarro, 1642)

In the early modern period, the commonplace was basically destined for lit-

erary rather than non-verbal communication, as Ann Moss reminds us in the

present collection; it belonged to the elite domain of the grammar class, where boys learnt to arrange knowledge by writing. For Moss, the commonplace book had a particular influence on developing minds; it ‘tended to foster the assumption that all knowledge could be plotted onto a preconceived moral grid’? While it is important to remember this more rigorous initial definition of the commonplace, we should ask whether more flexible approaches and uses became current in the course of the sixteenth century.

In mid-sixteenth-century England, for instance, a ‘commonplace’ also denoted a common topic, a statement taken for granted, a stock theme, or even a platitude. If the commonplace can be universalised, embracing all knowl-

edge, why should it be restricted to the verbal, especially given the spatial semantics of the term itself? Locus communis, lieu commun, Gemeinplatz, topos: since Antiquity,

European thought has connected the abstract notion of ‘something shared by many’ with the notion of space. The visual arts offer a fertile ground for

commonplaces: we could think of Serlian stage design, which provided visual templates for centuries of theatre performance to come; or we might admire the golden section, instantly understood to signify beauty, in Renaissance book design, Vesalian anatomy, and Da Vinci’s studies. Rhetoric rests on spatial logic (dispositio) to order language. The commonplace — !1 would like to thank Richard Sugg for his comments on this essay. ? ‘More glorious than the force of hand is the dexterity of the foot.’ Don Francisco Navarro, dedicatory poem, in Juan Esquivel Navarro, Discursos sobre el arte del dançado

(Sevilla,

1642;

facs. edn Valencia, s.d.), no pag. I would

like to thank

Richard Sugg for his comments on this essay. 3 A. Moss, chapter in this volume, pp. 1-17 (p. 3).

‘ The Oxford English Dictionary, 258 edn, ‘commonplace’, section 5, documented

since 1560; , last accessed February 21, 2007.

210

BARBARA RAVELHOFER

whether visual or textual — is the focal point where all meaning converges, and, from this moral high ground, it aspires to quintessential, authoritative direction. Despite its name, suggestive of stasis, the commonplace is therefore strangely mobile and active. In light of this, it seems worthwhile to investigate a discipline which is, in its expressivity, often compared to language, and which involves both location and direction: dance. In early modern Europe, dance was considered an important social accomplishment, practised with solicitous energy and passionately debated by both apologists and detractors. In the opinion of enthusiasts, the splendour of dance even defied worldly power: ‘more glorious than the force of hand

is the dexterity of the foot’, proclaimed Francisco Navarro in a book celebrating the achievements of court dancers under the reign of Philip IV of Spain. Many such comments of French, English, German, Spanish, and Ital-

ian provenance have survived, which in itself attests to the eminent role of dancing between the fifteenth and seventeenth century. Literature on the subject espoused a number of commonplace notions, of which I will inves-

tigate a few here: dance as a socialising force which turned practitioners

into better people; the dangers of speed and the benefits of moderate movement; and, finally, dance-as-silent-language. First I will sketch with a few

broad brushstrokes an impression of cross-European attitudes towards dancing, with particular attention to dancing as an educational discipline. Then I will move on to three influential Italian professionals. Domenico da Piacenza was a fifteenth-century choreographer active in Ferrara and Milan; his compositions circulated in manuscript and attracted a number of followers in Northern Italy.‘ Fabritio Caroso, a famous sixteenth-century dancing

master from Sermoneta (a town south of Rome), developed many practical and theoretical insights in the course of his long career, which led to sump-

tuous illustrated volumes greatly admired by his peers. Bernardino Stefonio,

a Jesuit scholar and playwright, composed ground-breaking dance theatre in

Rome in the 1590s and early 1600s. Stefonio’s ideas spawned a critical debate well beyond his Roman College, and his works saw multiple editions in several countries. Domenico, Caroso, and Stefonio enjoyed an excellent reputation in their time. Their creative engagement with kinetic commonplaces will be the topic of the latter part of this essay.

® On Domenico’s influence upon later choreographers see G. Ebreo, De pratica seu

arte tripudii, ed. B. Sparti (Oxford, 1993); A. W. Smith, ed., FifieenthCentury Dance and Music: Twelve Transcribed Italian Treatises and Collections in the Tradition of Domenico da Piacenza, 2 vols. (Stuyvesant, 1995).

CHOREOGRAPHY AS COMMONPLACE

211

Dance as a socialising force

Learning to dance may be a

solitary exercise for one’s own pleasure, but

often the art involves interaction with one or several partners. Therefore a dance lesson inculcates social conditioning: it promotes an awareness of one’s audience,

consideration of partners, and a proper carriage and de-

portment according to the expectations of everybody present. Dancers learn about their place not only in the dance space but also within the wider community. For this reason, classical thought placed great emphasis on

movement, its role in education, and its place in the social fabric. Plato defined education as a ‘disciplined state of pleasures and pains’ — a state of equilibrium between hardship and relaxation which might translate as a healthy balance between work and leisure within a community.° In this re-

spect, dance was considered particularly helpful. In Plato’s utopian Republic, music and gymnastics formed part of the ideal citizen’s education, as they served both body and spirit, engendering a sense for and appreciation of harmony.’ The training of the body culminated, ideally, in the goodness

of the soul. Bodily exercise was believed to inculcate virtue, and thus, in

Plato’s vision, both boys and girls learned to dance under the direction of special masters.* But it had to be the right kind of dance: ‘all postures and

melodies connected with goodness of soul or body (...) are good, and those connected with badness universally the reverse’.’ ‘Good’ dances were re-

cognised as such by being orderly and having a beneficial social purpose. Of the orderly kind Plato recommended two particular genres: the martial pyrrhic dance, which prepared the performer for action on the battlefield,

and emmelia, the dance of peace, which was said to engender a sense of

well-being and equanimity. Other genres, however, were declared ‘unfit for a citizen’; among these being burlesque and bacchanalian kinds, as they smacked of excess. Interestingly, these dances were deliberately attributed to slaves and ‘hired aliens’, as if Plato had sought to expurgate improper

motion from the enfranchised community of his polis.'° Aristotle held the firm opinion that gesture was indicative of one’s character and betrayed

° Laws, II. 6530, in: The Collected Dialogues of Plato Including the Letters, ed. E. Hamilton and H. Cairns (Princeton, 1963).

7 The Republic, ΠΙ. 412a-b.

δ Laws, VIL. 791c, VII. 813b. ° Laws, IL. 655b. 10 Laws, VIL. 815-816.

BARBARA RAVELHOFER

CHOREOGRAPHY AS COMMONPLACE

one’s soul; possibly echoing Plato, he considered disorderly movements un-

attractiveness as a social tool, and the training of those ‘in young years’,

212

213

natural.!! Adopting deep-rooted notions going back to Classical Antiquity, early modern dance theory established a catalogue of commendable as well as undesirable kinds of posture and movement when it attempted to socialise the dancing body.” Choreographic patterns and dance rules therefore offer fertile ground for the investigation of the kinetic commonplace and its function as social control mechanism. In Western Europe, the earliest choreo-

evidenced across early modern Europe. In Italian as much as English and German households of the better sort, children had hardly begun to walk when they were dispatched to dancing

dian, or Italian origin. Evidence for institutionalised dancing emerges for

to be the most importunate and perhaps the most tyrannical father that any

of a comprehensive school curriculum in the cities of Mantua and Ferrara.

beating you’. In the end, however, the pains paid off when Lavinia departed,

graphies date back to the mid-fifteenth century and are of French, Burgun-

the first time in fifteenth-century Italy, where we find dance lessons as part

As Jennifer Nevile shows, one of the most famous humanist schools in fifteenth-century Italy, Vittorino da Feltre’s Mantuan establishment, offered instruction to its pupils by ‘saltatores’.'*

It was widely held that education should begin at a very young age, so as to form a still malleable individual. Dancing became integral to the didactic programme, since it balanced mental with physical exercise and lightened the learning process with a playful note. In The Boke Named the Governour (first published 1531), one of the earliest English educational

treatises, the author, Sir Thomas Elyot, recommended sweetening moral les-

sons with pleasant diversions. Because ‘the studie of vertue is tediouse for

the more parte to them that do florisshe in yonge yeres’, Elyot suggested dancing as a saving device, for here the virtue of prudence could be ‘founden out and well perceyved’ by dancers and their audience. Dancing, in Elyot’s view, turned everybody into ‘diligent beholders and markers’.'*

As The Governour demonstrates, the art provided a collective learning ex-

perience, for it involved not only performers but also bystanders — hence its

classes. From the age of four, little Lavinia Guasco was subjected to a strict

regimen of dancing and singing, algebra and arithmetic, calligraphy, counterpoint theory, complicated board games, the practice of several musical

instruments, and the perusal of relevant literature such as Galateo and 1] Cortegiano. Tears flowed. As her father ruefully acknowledged, ‘I was held

daughter ever had, (...) admonishing, shouting, threatening, and at times

only eleven years old, for Turin to serve the Duchess of Savoy.” Lavinia might be called a professional courtier, but even children who were not raised to make

a living knew

how

to dance from an early age. Isabella

d’Este performed to public acclaim when she was seven years old.'® Children’s ballets were an accepted art form in early modern Europe. In 1660s Nuremberg, for instance, the musician Jacob Lang orchestrated a spectacle with sixty boys and girls ranging in age from six to twelve, who performed as shepherds, knights and dwarves, hobby horses, and the four continents.!? ‘Give me a child until he is seven and I will give you the man’, Saint Francis Xavier is alleged to have said, and, true to this principle, social and the-

atrical dancing became a

staple of Jesuit instruction in the sixteenth and

seventeenth centuries. As the 1586 Ratio Studiorum (which governed prac-

tice in Jesuit colleges) proposed, the performance of drama (which often involved ballet) could be used to kindle interest in scholarly subjects, and it even had an empathic effect: Our students and their parents become

wonderfully

enthusiastic, and at the

same time become very much attached to our Society, when we train the boys "| Aristotle, On the Heavens, 307a3-5, On the Soul, 406a30-406b1, Nicomachean

Ethics, 1128a12-13, in: The Complete

Works of Aristotle, ed. J. Barnes, 2 vols.

(Princeton, 1984), I, pp. 493, 647; IL p. 1780.

12 See, for instance, G. Vigarello, ‘The Upward Training of the Body from the Age

of Chivalry to Courtly Civility’, in: M. Feher, R. Naddaff, and N. Tazi, eds, Frag-

ments for a History of the Human Body: Part Two (New York, 1989), pp. 148-199. 13 J. Nevile, The Eloquent Body: Dance and Humanist Culture in Fifteenth-Century Italy (Bloomington, 2004), p. 20.

14 Sir Thomas Elyot, The Boke Named the Governour (London, 1531), fol. 84’. On

children performers, see also B. Ravelhofer, ““Virgin Wax” and “Hairy MenMonsters”: Unstable Movement Codes in the Stuart Masque’, in: D. Bevington and P. Holbrook, pp. 244-272.

eds,

The Politics of the Stuart Court Masque

(Cambridge,

1998),

5 Annibal Guasco, Discourse to Lady Lavinia his Daughter, ed. and transl. P. Osborn (Chicago, 2003), p. 51. 16 Fifteenth-Century Dance and Music, ed. Smith, p. xxi; E. Southern, ‘A Prima Ballerina of the Fifteenth Century’, in: A. Dhu Shapiro and P. Benjamin, eds, Music and Context: Essays for John M. Ward (Cambridge, MA, 1985), pp. 183-197. '7 J. M. L. [Jacob Lang?], Kurtzer Entwurff eines anmuthigen Kinder-Ballets (Nuremberg, 1668). An engraving illustrating this ballet survives in the Stadtbibliothek, Nuremberg,

and

is reproduced

in H. Zirnbauer,

Niirnberg (Nuremberg, s.d.), p. 61.

Musik

in der alten Reichsstadt

214

CHOREOGRAPHY AS COMMONPLACE

BARBARA RAVELHOFER memory, to show the results of their study, their acting ability, and their ready on the stage.'®

In England, dance was initially taught to young members

of elite

howhouseholds on an individual basis. From the late sixteenth century,

ever, dancing became a curricular fixture for a wider constituency, notably at London’s Inns of Court (although lessons were not given in-house but

of farmed out to dancing schools nearby, which, by all accounts, ‘st{ajnke peion sweat most abominably’'’). An ambitious timetable of the Restorat

riod detailed how young gentlemen lawyers were to be profitably disciplined: ‘From 9 to 11. Ad Arma. Carry on harmless acts of manhood, fencing, dancing etc.’2° while observers pointed out that ‘these Exercises of Dancing’ were ‘much conducing to the making of gentlemen more fit for their Books at other times’.”! Throughout the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the students lived up to their reputation as excellent dancers in public shows. Some Inns of Court masques were presented before a very select audience, including royalty; such performances often amounted to a broadly

affirmative celebration of monarchic politics, the analogy between beautiful, well-timed movement and well-behaved subject being obvious.” One of the most famous productions, James Shirley’s The Triumph of Peace

(1634), addressed the lawyers as ‘the Ornament of our Nation’ and high-

lighted their mandate to present their ‘duties to their royall Maiesties, (...) to celebrate, by this humble tender of Your hearts, and services, the happinesse of our Kingdome, so blest in the present governement’

Masques also ex-

18 Cited from W. H. McCabe, An Introduction to the Jesuit Theater, ed. L. Oldani

(St Louis, 1983), p. 13. 19 Verdict of Sir Thomas Overbury (d. 1613), who entered Middle Temple in 1598. Cited from M. Vale, The Gentleman’s Recreations: Accomplishments and Pastimes of the English Gentleman 1580-1630 (Cambridge, 1977), p. 89. 20 Edward Waterhous’s scheme from 1663 but based on long practice at Gray’s Inn. Cited from W. R. Prest, The Inns of Court under Elizabeth I and the Early Stuarts, 1590-1640 (London, 1972), pp. 139-140.

21 William Dugdale’s view, in J. P. Cunningham, Dancing in the Inns of Court

215

tended their didacticism from the dancing commoner to the audience, ‘to make the Spectators understanders’, as the English court poet Ben Jonson famously put it — a mode of thinking reminiscent of Elyot’s earlier insights.” Yet others harboured less charitable thoughts about such ‘humble tenders’. Shirley’s and Jonson’s contemporary Robert Bolton — a prominent

preacher and Puritan writer connected with works such as The Carnall Pro-

fessor (1634) — regarded the ‘worthy houses of Law’ as a place destined ‘for great and honourable actions, for the publike good, and the continuance of

the glory and happinesse of this Kingdome’; yet, alas, ‘they licentiously dissolve[d] into wicked vanities and pleasures’, with ‘abominable spectacles’ which were ‘the grand empoysoners of grace (...) and all manly resolution’.

For Bolton, the Inns had ended up as ‘Schooles of lewdnesse and Sinkes of all sins’, to which dancing had contributed in no mean fashion We see,

then, that the commonplace notion of dance as a positive educational tool did not go unchallenged. In France, the most blatant attempts at turning pastimes into socially purposeful activities occurred in the seventeenth century. A flurry of treatises dealt with the history, theory, and practice of dance and spectacle, usually coming up with the generous conclusion that such arts offered profit as much as delight.”° Proposals for French academies to reform society often included a balletic element. Antoine de Pluvinel, haute école expert under Louis XIII, suggested the nationwide establishment of institutions to take care of idle young ‘gentils hommes’ in an ‘escole de vertu’: inmates were to be drilled in horsemanship and dancing next to military skills, history, and maths?’ The idea that dancing could serve to discipline its performers was famously endorsed by Richelieu, and put to practice in the court ballets which marshalled the aristocracy’s energy under Louis XIV. We need to ask whether choreographies in ballets de cour or ‘schools of virtue’ eventually 4 Tn the court masque Loves Triumph Through Callipolis (London,

1630 [1631]),

sig. A2". 25 Robert Bolton, A Discourse about the State of True Happinesse (London, 1611 and seq.; 1638 edn), pp. 73-74. The Carnall Professor. Discovering the Wofull Slavery of a Man Guided by the Flesh (London, 1634) bears Bolton’s name on the titlepage but this attribution has been questioned (ESTC 3225).

(London, 1965), p. 4. 22 Masques should, however, not simply be read as blunt propaganda instruments but events that might on occasion offer tactful criticism of political orthodoxies. See K. Sharpe, Criticism and Compliment: The Politics of Literature in the England of

6 Best known are Monsieur de Saint-Hubert, La Maniére de composer et faire réussir les ballets (Paris, 1641; facs. edn Geneva, 1993), and C.-F. Ménestrier, Des bal-

23 James Shirley, The Triumph of Peace (London, 1633 [1634]), sig. a2°", ‘To the

27 1 "Instruction du Roy en l'exercice de monter à cheval (Paris, 1627), pp. 199-206, p. 202. The work first appeared in 1625 and was corrected by Pluvinel’s pupil René

Charles I (Cambridge, 1987).

Foure Equall and Honourable Societies, the Innes of Court’. One should not be misled by Shirley’s grovelling preface; although meaning to be supportive of the Stuart monarchy, the spectacle itself voices subtle criticism of the masque form as royal panegyric.

lets anciens et modernes selon les règles du théâtre (Paris, 1682; facs. edn Geneva, 1972).

de Menou. An academy after Pluvinel’s ideas had been founded as far back as 1584; see Giles Worsley’s fine essay ‘The History of “haute école” in England’, The Court Historian 6 (2001), pp. 29-47 (p. 36).

216

CHOREOGRAPHY AS COMMONPLACE

BARBARA RAVELHOFER

led to the orderly performance of the political subject. Dancers were and are, after all, individuals who might have approached their task with a sense of irony.”* The limits of physical education were caricatured in certain English comedies of the mid-seventeenth century, where megalomaniacal danc-

ing masters boasted that they kept the populace from rebellion by the flick of a foot — yet diabolical master plans to transform a whole nation by way of choreography ended in failure.”” Even though contested and ridiculed, the idea that the practice of dancing was somehow conducive to the formation of a good person, an accomplished, well-rounded individual, or a model subject persisted. Pre-1700 dance literature conveys the acute impression of tightly cued social gatherings where the tiniest details were carefully registered and evaluated by an occasionally merciless audience. Sixteenth- and seventeenth-century dance books are replete with instructions as to how to sit down, how to greet one’s company, what kinds of gestures to use depending on the status of the addressee, or how much time to spend on taking off one’s gloves (no longer than it took to pray one ‘Ave Maria’, and one should never ever pull them

217

conscious links to classical authority and placed themselves within a wider humanist discourse. Domenico da Piacenza, a dancing master associated with the Este and Sforza families, composed ‘De arte saltandi’, an influen-

tial treatise on the art of dancing in the vernacular (despite its title), probably some time before 1463. For Domenico, dance was ‘a refined demonstration

of as

much

intellect

and

effort

as

one

can

find’?

Furthermore,

Domenico was acutely aware of the social dimension of dance: it was important not only to take care of oneself but of one’s partner, and one needed to know about the social connotation of certain steps and genres. Order was very important in Domenico’s work — not only in technical but also in ethical terms. Domenico developed the idea of misura — a complex concept which encompassed the notions of ‘dancing mode’, ‘decorum’, and ‘sense of proportion’. Nevile argues convincingly that Domenico’s ethos — and choreographic practice — corresponded to that of contemporary

architects (such as Leon Battista Alberti) who believed that geometric order led to moral virtue.** Domenico’s dances are sometimes characterised by a

geometric grid or a linear axis.’ Dancers often begin a step sequence with

off with one’s teeth, according to Fabritio Caroso*’). This also raised expec-

the left foot and end it with the right one. Very often one group imitates the movement of the preceding group, or movements to the left are executed towards the right in a mirroring manner. Frequently dancers return to their original positions at the end of the dance. This is also a common pattern of sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Italian courtly dance.

regarded it as a profound truth."

eschewed extremes. Maniera and misura — both in the sense of rhythmical and spatial proportion and Aristotelian moderation — must animate the choreographic and the social performance. A fine dancer should move ‘like a gondola (...) propelled by two oars through the waves when the sea is calm’.** The wonderfully poised image conveys a sense of effortless balance. Here the individual is at peace with the world that surrounds him (or her; the fifteenth century saw a number of famous female performers, notably in Italy). It is an image which makes readers almost forget that rules govern the course of the gondola. Taking his cue from Aristotle, Domenico developed a technical terminology which distinguished between ‘natural’ and ‘accidental’ move-

tations with regard to the teachers and performers themselves: not only were they supposed to excel on stage, but ideally they should lead exemplary lives. As late as the eighteenth century, the celebrated French court dancer Vestris maintained that a great dancer had to be virtuous; an observation which deeply impressed the German poet and essayist Heinrich Heine, who Order in speed: Domenico da Piacenza Let us now return to the origins of the theoretical debate on dancing in the fifteenth century. Possibly because dance was not regarded as a serious pursuit at that time, the earliest tracts on choreographies and their meaning stress the intellectual demands of the art, and hence adduce frequent analogies to language, logic, and philosophy. Quattrocento authors developed 28 This has been argued in recent criticism; for instance, by Mark Franko in Dance

as Text: Ideologies of the Baroque Body (Cambridge, 1993). 29 Monsieur Galliard, in the Caroline comedy

The Varietie (c.1641, pub. London,

1649), attributed to William Cavendish and James Shirley. Shirley specialised in control-freak dancing masters; his comedy The Ball (perf. 1632, pub. London, 1639) would be another, though less extreme, example.

30 F, Caroso, Nobilta di dame (Venice, 1600), p. 67, avertimento II.

3! “Ein groBer Tänzer muB tugendhaft sein’ (Heinrich Heine, letter from Paris, Feb-

ruary 7, 1842, in: G. Brandstetter, ed., Aufforderung zum Tanz: Geschichten und Gedichte (Stuttgart, 1993), p. 31).

Domenico

further recommended

maniera, a smooth execution which

52 Domenico, ‘De arte saltandi’, parallel text with transl. in Fifieenth-Century Dance and Music, ed. Smith, I, chapt. 1, IL. 21-22. On the date of the treatise see I, pp. 7, 111.

°° Nevile, The Eloquent Body, pp. 120-121. 34 Nevile offers compelling examples of dances imitating the geometric design of Medici gardens (The Eloquent Body, pp. 123-125).

5 Domenico, ‘De arte saltandi’, in Fifteenth-Century Dance and Music, ed. Smith, chapt. 1, Il. 16-25; chapt. 3, ll. 47-48; chapt. 7, 1. 77.

—

Geese

218

Presa

θην

i

BARBARA RAVELHOFER

CHOREOGRAPHY AS COMMONPLACE

ments.*° The former were supposedly found in nature and were part of peo-

ple’s basic kinetic repertoire, such as single and double steps. Interestingly, Domenico also placed in this group some kinds of movement which a mod-

ern reader might not immediately identify as ‘natural’: would the inclusion

of riverentia (a kneeling movement) imply that it is an inborn human characteristic to show respect or even deference by way of movement? Would

Domenico thereby suggest that one should accept existing hierarchies? ‘Ac-

cidental’ movements, on the other hand, simply served to ornament existing ‘natural’ movements; here Domenico mentioned the frappamento (tap) or

scorsa (scurrying step). In terms of tempo, Domenico’s ‘accidental’ movements (not all but many) tend to require less time than ‘natural’ ones. Tempo also informs Domenico’s generic distinction of dances and steps in several types of misura: the slowest was bassadanza, followed by the more animated quadernaria, saltarello, and (fastest of all) the piva:

I am bassadanza, queen of the misure, and deserve to wear the crown. Few understand my performance. Whoever in dance or in music uses me, blessings from the heavens are offered.

(

I am called piva and am the saddest of the misure, because I am used by the villagers in the country.*”

These kinetic distinctions are not simply represented in strictly choreographic terms. Domenico humanises his misure and endows them with a particular social status and intellectual capacity. The misure speak to the

reader, opening former.

a dialogue

between

the dance

and

the prospective

per-

3° Apart from the Nicomachean Ethics, Domenico was probably familiar with Aris-

totle’s Aesthetics, if not other works as well. Domenico could have drawn upon Ar-

istotelian terms from a number of texts, both on physics and ethical topics (indeed both are related in his oeuvre). Smith prefers the translation ‘incidental movements’ for ‘motti acidentalli’ (Fifteenth-Century Dance and Music, ed. Smith, I, p. 11 and

219

The Socratic dialogue was, incidentally, a favourite mode of communi-

cation in early modern dance books which informed readers about choreographies and proper deportment; commonly such dialogues evolved, charged with full-flavoured practical advice, between a teacher and his pupil. Thus in Fabritio Caroso’s sixteenth-century dance book Nobilta di dame

(1600):

Disciple. Please go on to describe each of the abovementioned headings, so that I shall know how to teach them to my womenfolk. Master. (...) Be careful not to adopt the habit of some who first draw their bod-

ies back while bending deeply, and then thrust their bodies forward (a movement so unseemly that, were I to say what it resembles, everyone would die laughing). Still others bend so very straight down and then rise, that they truly resemble a hen about to lay an egg.**

This example of Socratic dialogue builds upon common knowledge. Dance treatises devised in this manner seek to involve the reader by using analogies and examples from everyday life. Such discursive strategies turn reading (and possibly performing) into an inclusive experience, perhaps similar to that of singing psalms, whose melody and content everybody knows. Domenico’s misure are exceptional in going a step further (as it were) and addressing the reader directly. No go-between (either teacher or disci-

ple) obscures the immediate appeal of the dance. The courtly bassadanza is

the first to offer direct interpretation and application. The slowest of all misure, the bassadanza, calls herself ‘queen’. Domenico’s hint that the slow movement might be nobler than the fast one corresponds to a kinetic trope in the iconography of medieval and early modern Western rulers who are usually depicted motionless.* The bassadanza appeals to reason and even lures her listeners with an epiphany: those able to understand or, better yet,

perform this majestic mode are promised heavenly grace. In contrast, the piva is relegated to the periphery, the village. Domenico later adds with dis-

approval that the piva was popular in dances performed by tipsy revellers in

chapt. 8-9).

?7 “De arte saltandi’, chapt. 11, 11. 202-218, transl. A. W. Smith. It is sometimes dif-

ficult to distinguish between a whole dance, sections of a dance, and individual steps. Misura is a charged term: it could mean ‘mode’, ‘dance’, ‘sense of proportion’, or ‘a way of counting mathematically the speed of your performance’. ‘Sal-

tarello’ can be an entire dance, but it is also a quick jump. With the misure as outlined above Domenico may also mean dance modes, i.e. when he tells the reader to

perform a certain step sequence in the mode of the bassadanza, he means that this

sequence should be danced slowly in a 6/8 rhythm. If the reader is told to dance the

same step sequence in the saltarello mode, it is performed more quickly.

38 F. Caroso, Nobilta di dame, ed. and transl. J. Sutton and F. M. Walker (New York,

1995), pp. 140-141. * B. Ravelhofer, ‘Histrio and Historian: Imperial Symbolism in the Gedechinus

Works diation 2005), ing the

of Maximilian I’, in: R. Suntrup, J. Veenstra and of Symbol in Late Medieval and Early Modern pp. 257-273. A similar argument on slowness as domain of actors or servants is also developed

A. Bollmann, eds, The MeTimes (Frankfurt am Main, dignified and quickness bein Nevile, p. 98, who states

that Italian art of the Renaissance depicted elite women with very little movement.

SEEN

220

BARBARA RAVELHOFER

CHOREOGRAPHY AS COMMONPLACE

the late hours of festivals.“ His remarks are reminiscent of Plato’s objection to bacchanalian dancing. The piva appeals to the dionysian, not the rational mind. Domenico’s idea of the quick movement as a cypher for uncontrolled, dangerous behaviour marks an important early stage in a long-standing de-

bate, which gives rise to a pervasive commonplace in Western thought associating the fast with the pantomimic, histrionic, licentious, and socially

transgressive. Castiglione regarded lively jumps and turns as something bet-

ter exercised in private or in theatricals; on all other public occasions he advised his readers to ‘keepe a certain dignitie, tempred (...) with a handsome and sightly sweetnesse of gestures’. A courtier should be careful about entering ‘into that swiftnesse of feet and doubled footinges, that we see are very comely in oure Barletta [a professional dancer]’ as this was ‘unseemely for a Gentilman’.*’ Della Casa’s Galateo (first pub. 1558) concurred: only grooms rushed about panting and sweating.” In seventeenth-century England, masques invested grotesque dancers with gesticulating movements, while physiologists such as Thomas Wright juxtaposed the ‘harlots’,

discernible ‘by the light and wanton motions of their eyes and gestures’,

with ‘honest matrons’ known ‘by their grave and chaste looks’. The stage

fury became the kinetic stock-in-trade figure embodying violent evil in bal-

let-opera all over Europe. And later, the fatal effects of the dynamic waltz, a visible expression of uncontrollable passion, were denounced in Goethe’s Sorrows of Young Werther and Byron’s diatribes on the topic. It comes as no surprise that, when Kierkegaard looked for the quintessential expression of the demonic, he considered ballet and chose a satanic leap: The most terrible words that sound from the abyss of evil would not be able to produce an effect like that of the suddenness of the leap that lies within the confines of the mimical. (...) The horror that seizes one upon seeing Mephistopheles leap in through the window and freeze in the position of the leap! 40 De arte saltandi’, in Fifteenth-Century Dance and Music, ed. Smith, chapt.

11. 322-324.

14,

*' Quoted from the first English transl. of Baldassare Castiglione’s Il Cortegiano by

Thomas Hoby, The Courtyer (London, 1561), bk. 2, sig. Miii’. #? ‘Non dée l’uomo nobile correre per via né troppo affrettarsi, ché cid conviene a palafreniere e non a gentiluomo, senza che l’uomo s’affanna e suda ed ansa (...)’, Giovanni della Casa, Galateo, ed. 8. Prandi (Turin, 1994), p. 80.

# Thomas Wright (d. 1624), The Passions of the Mind in General, ed. W. W. Newbold (New York, 1986), bk. 1, chapt. 7, p. 110.

“ Kierkegaard had seen Antoine Bournonville’s ballet Faust (performed in Copenhagen in 1832), where the choreographer himself danced as Mephistopheles; deeply

impressed by Bournonville’s leap, Kierkegaard noted in his journal that ‘the demonic is namely the sudden’, a notion he further developed in The Concept of Anxiety (1844). Soren Kierkegaard, The Concept of Anxiety: A Simple Psychologically

The

leap

precedes

the

fall,

as

Milton

knew

so

well.

221

One

does

wonder

whether Kierkegaard knew Paradise Lost, where Satan peers into the abyss

before he takes flight, only to drop ‘ten thousand fathom deep’. Milton’s terrifying lines evoke stasis and movement at the same time. Satan is, as the misplaced preposition of direction indicates, already falling while still gaz-

ing:

Into this wild abyss the wary fiend Stood on the brink of hell and looked a while, Pondering his voyage ἐῶ

Satan’s fiendish leap is a universe away from Renaissance dance ethics and

aesthetics.

In all things there was

a natural goodness,

Domenico

had con-

tended, with reference to Aristotle, whose idea of the golden mean (prevalent in the Nicomachean Ethics) he espoused in his own work: ‘being moderate saves one’.“ In Milton’s postlapsarian grammar, Satan is/moves out of order, beyond redemption. Mute rhetoric: Fabritio Caroso and Bernardino Stefonio While the appeal of Domenico’s art lay in its deceptive simplicity, dance

manuals from the sixteenth century onwards tended towards a more ostentatious, display-oriented approach.*’ Dancing masters foregrounded the idea of performance as physical persuasion, and, to this end, elaborated on the

analogy between movement and language by turning dance itself into text, or ‘Rhetorique muette’, as Thoinot Arbeau, a churchman and dance expert

living in Langres near Dijon, famously put it in his treatise Orchésographie (1589).** Best known at the time were, perhaps, Fabritio Caroso’s dance

Orienting Deliberation on the Dogmatic Issue of Hereditary Sin, ed. and transl. R. Thomte and A. Anderson (Princeton, 1980), pp. 131, 250. I have replaced the translator’s ‘remain stationary’ with ‘freeze’. See also Aufforderung zum Tanz, ed.

Brandstetter, p. 409.

‘ John Milton, Paradise Lost, ed. A. Fowler (London, 1971), bk 2, Il. 917-919. Fowler calls Milton’s sentence a ‘fine passage of mimetic syntax’ (p. 132). 46 De arte saltandi’, in Fifteenth-Century Dance and Music, ed. Smith, chapt.1,

I 15-16; chapt. 7, ll. 74-75. 7 On this transition, usually deplored in dance criticism, see in particular R. zur Lippe, Naturbeherrschung am Menschen, 2 vols. (Frankfurt am Main, 1974, 21981). ® Thoinot Arbeau [Jehan Tabourot], Orchesographie et traicté en forme de dialogue, par lequel toutes personnes peuvent facilement apprendre & practiquer

l’honneste exercice des dances [Orchésographie] (Langres, 1589), fol. 5°. A prolific number

of studies

have

commented

on

this analogy.

See,

for instance,

Franko,

11ii

222

BARBARA RAVELHOFER

CHOREOGRAPHY AS COMMONPLACE

books, printed in Venice in 1581 and 1600, and reprinted in Rome as late as 1630.“° Caroso’s colleagues thought highly of him. According to the promi-

the lady’s virtues (‘che non bastano à cid voci, e parole’, Nobilta di dame, p.

nent

Milanese

choreographer

Cesare

Negri,

whose

creations

were

per-

formed before the Spanish Infanta, Caroso could not be praised highly enough for his beautiful dances. In particular, Negri extolled Caroso’s // Ballarino (1581), dedicated to Bianca Cappello de’ Medici, Grand Duchess

of Tuscany, as ‘a most beautiful book, a testimony of [the author’s] splendid

223

somewhat self-deprecatory manner, that words were not enough to praise

240). The greater the need, then, to immortalise her rosy cheeks in a dance,

and to illustrate her beauty with an abstract floor pattern printed on the sub-

sequent page of Nobilta di dame.

The pattern shows three ladies (D for ‘dame’) and three gentlemen (C for ‘cavalieri’) arranged in a circle. They gaze at the rose in the centre; tra-

and illustrious valour’; Negri used the work as a point of reference by which he measured his own publications.” Caroso’s revised version of Il Ballarino, Nobilta di dame, included detailed step instructions, choreographies, music in lute tablature, and poems, as well as engravings showing stills of dancing couples. Furthermore the work stylised the performance itself into a mute ‘pedalogue”*! which participants practised with steps inspired by classical metre. The rhythm of poetry translated directly into legwork, Caroso argued — after all, poetry drew upon the concept of verse feet:

jectories towards the centre signal the direction of the gaze. Once set in mo-

the immortal poet Ovid demonstrated this well in his verse (for one calls that

Caroso bends his own rules to create a dactyl, as the ‘seguito’ is usually executed in anapaestic rhythm, vv —). All this evolves around the rose,

joining of feet a caesura), so that when scanning one of his pentameter lines we

find first a dactyl, then a spondee, and finally a caesura, and here we stop a lit-

tle.

This might be an appropriate moment to stop a little and recall one of the early modern definitions of the commonplace book: a preconceived grid on

which knowledge could be plotted. For Caroso invented a choreography, called Contrapasso Nuovo, which combined text with movement and liter-

ary theory. Contrapasso Nuovo applied Ovidian versification to the dance

floor; in the printed version of the dance, an engraving illustrates the nexus between movement and language (see III. 1). Like the verbal common-

place, the dance was the outcome of long critical reflection on practice, for Nobilta di dame represented the summa of Caroso’s fifty years of professional experience. Like the verbal commonplace, Contrapasso Nuovo was

tion, the dancers weave along an interlaced path (one undulating line for the

ladies, the other for the gentlemen), the rose always remaining the hub of the action that wheels about it. Caroso praised his creation as ‘fatto con vera Regola, perfetta Theorica, & Mathematica’ (Nobilta di dame, p. 243), a beautiful geometric structure pulsating with the rhythms gleaned from Ovid,

the spondeo (— -- and dattile (— vv). Within the choreography, the spondeo

translates into two simple steps (‘passi semibrevi’), and the dattile into a ‘seguito’ (a triple step with a possible emphasis on the first step — here

which, placed at the centre, offers not simply spatial but also moral and aesthetic orientation. Would the rose be the grid on which the dancers’ movements could be plotted? Could we read the title of the dance as commonplace heading, with the subject matter provided by the danced performance? Lady Cesi’s symbolic presence animates the entire choreography, giving the

performers a model to aim at. Geometric and rhythmical order may direct

those who understand the dance to her virtues. To my knowledge, no other pre-1700 choreographic illustration makes the connection between geomet-

tic order, beauty, and moral accomplishment as apparent as does Caroso’s Contrapasso Nuovo. While Caroso intended his dance for performance on any social occa-

sion, Bernardino Stefonio was more specifically interested in the role of dancing in the theatre. This became evident in Stefonio’s immensely suc-

an elite creation, addressing a connoisseur audience. Caroso dedicated his

cessful Jesuit school play Crispus. First staged in 1597, the tragedy saw many subsequent performances and eight editions in France, Italy, and the

Dance as Text; 8. R. Cohen, Art, Dance, and the Body in French Culture of the Ancien Régime (Cambridge, 2000). ip Caroso, 1] Ballarino (Venice, 1581) and its revised sequel, Nobilta di dame (1600); idem, Raccolta di varij Balli (Rome, 1630), a reprint of Nobilta di dame. °0 “Un bellissimo libro, testimonio del suo valore ben chiaro, & illustre’ (Cesare Negri, Le Gratie d'amore (Milan, 1602: facs. edn Bologna, 1983), pp. 2, 4). 5! For ‘pedalogo [pedalogue]’ see Nobilta di dame (1600), Laura Suave, p. 115.

of Seneca’s Hippolytus, Crispus showed the tribulations of its eponymous hero, fatally pursued by his lustful stepmother, consort of the Roman em-

dance to Lady Cornelia Orsina Cesi with a poem. This poem stated, in a

“2 Nobiltà di dame, transl. Sutton, “Passo Puntato Semigrave’, p. 102. °3 Nobilta di dame (1600), pp. 240-244, Contrapasso Nuovo.

Netherlands between

1601 and 1634. A christianised, all-male adaptation

peror Constantine (as Louis Oldani and Victor Yanitelli aptly put it, ‘for

educating youth in dutiful citizenship and personal responsibility, tragic en# M. Fumaroli, ‘Le Crispus et la Flavia du P. Bernardino Stefonio S. J.: contribu-

tion à l’histoire du théâtre au Collegio Romano (1597-1628), in: J. Jacquot and E. Konigson, eds, Les Fêtes de la Renaissance, WI (Paris, 1975), pp. 505-524.

BARBARA RAVELHOFER

CHOREOGRAPHY AS COMMONPLACE

counters with historic heroism best suited the positive indoctrination of love

— could spread from a single source to the borders of the universe. The young performers tried to embody acoustic airwaves, as it were. The last dance, a labyrinthine, cross-shaped choreography (Ill. 4), rep-

224

of one’s country”*). A version presented twice in Naples in 1603 involved four choreographies executed by sixteen college students.” Illustrations showing the floor tracks of these four dances were included in an edition commemorating the Naples performances which appeared one year later. These choreographies conformed to the humanist concept of ut pictura poesis, at the heart of the Jesuit quest to teach by pleasure and emotional involvement.” What exactly might a boy have learnt when dancing these patterns?

Both Stefonio and his Neapolitan publisher regarded the choreographies as a revival of Greek emmelia”* — hence they were meant to promote, in some way, social behaviour in times of peace. As Stefonio observed, dancing could, just like preaching, melt the hardened heart, especially if aided by the trappings of theatre, and nothing gave so much pleasure as jointly experi-

encing a calamity from a safe distance in a group.” To that end, Stefonio’s dances rehearsed a number of easily recognisable emblematic commonplaces. The eagle (Ill. 2) — main figure of the first ballet — represented em-

pire, the constant quest for honour and the defiance of misfortune (the Ro-

man eagle was frequently alluded to in the course of the play). The third

choral dance (III. 3) involved more taxing guesswork for the audience, as it evolved around a perspectival grid which visualised how fame — or rumour

°° L. J. Oldani and V. R. Yanitelli, ‘Jesuit Theater in Italy: Its Entrances and Exit’,

Italica 76 (1999), pp. 18-32 (p. 25). °° Fumaroli, ‘Le Crispus’, p. 515. For a good overview of choreographies in the style of Crispus, see O. di Tondo, ““Leggiadria di ballo et di gesti”: alcune osservazioni sulla danza negli intermedi e nel primo melodramma tra XVI e XVII secolo’, in: A. Chiarle, ed., L’Arte della danza ai tempi di Claudio Monteverdi (Turin,

1996), pp. 189-226; B. Stefonio, Crispus: Tragoedia, eds L. Strappini and L. Trenti

(Rome,

1998).

°7 Fumaroli, ‘Le Crispus’, p. 515.

°8 Stefonio’s and the publisher’s comments were considered sufficiently important to be included in a range of later editions, including that of Urbeveterum (Civitavecchia), 1620; all further quotations are taken from this edition. For ‘emmelia’ see Ste-

fonio’s preface, sig. a3”: Illa tantopere laudata schemata veterum saltationum, et omnem Tragoedorum Emmeliam ob oculos expressam vidimus, è Romanorum litteris, ac vetere Graecia repetitam: in versu concentum, in concentu tempus, in tempore

corporum

motum,

ac statum,

in motu,

statuque figuram,

in figura cum

rebus

agendis sententiam congruentem, omnemque conversionem cuiusque modi flexus ad

dexteram, ac laevam, scitè praeeuntem Coryphaeum aptè consequentis in seriem Chori (Crispus, printer’s address to the reader, sig. [a6"”]). °9 Quod pectus ita ferreum est, ut non illud expugnet Orchestra, Logeum, Thymele, choragium, emmelia (...)

(Crispus, sig. a3"); interdum non est turpe, cum multitudine

sentire: et in parte felicitatis est, communem calamitatem sequi (Crispus, sig. a4”).

225

resented the human condition and the need for Christian guidance. As the Chorus lamented, ‘you who are happy, fear the hand of God which over-

turns the greatest empires in a brief moment’.” This insight was exemplified in the character of Crispus, first féted by the Roman people and then accepting his execution with serene equanimity, his last thoughts firmly devoted to Jesus. In Marc Fumaroli’s reading, the final dance expressed the

idea that Christ had, through his incarnation, descended to the labyrinth of

this world; by his exemplary, arduous passage he had shown humankind the way to salvation.®' The performance of the labyrinth, then, did not simply emulate the play’s main character; it led to physical as well as mental imitatio Christi.

The illustrations do raise some questions about choreographic practice, though. It does not take much to read the printed image of an eagle as ‘empire’. Yet how easy is it for sixteen dancers to compose such an image by sequential action? The printed designs amount to a cumulative representation, showing not a snapshot of the dances but their total impression created in the course of several minutes. What the audience saw at any point in the performance was a partial, incomplete view of the whole scheme. Witnessing the dances must have stimulated much speculation on the part of observers. Were the patterns painted on the dance floor (similar to the laby-

rinths one can see in medieval cathedrals, traced by the faithful), to facilitate the reading of the dance? If so, Stefonio must have found a method of

removing these floor patterns after each performance in order to make space for the next ballet. Were the dances explained in a note handed out to the audience?® Or did Stefonio proceed without any further guidance, hoping that allusions in the spoken text as to eagles, labyrinths, and the miserable state of humankind would do the trick? A challenge could have added to the

pleasure of learning. A thrill of discovery might have been in store for an audience which attentively followed the boys’ tableaux vivants and meandering lines, and thus slowly worked out the emerging shapes and meanings of a choreography, making connections between spoken text and moving illustration. On the other hand we should consider the possibility that Stefo-

© Dei / Summa momento brevi / Regna vertentem manum, / Quisquis es felix, time (Crispus, p. 108; my transl.).

ΟἹ Fumaroli, ‘Le Crispus’, pp. 523-524.

® A standard work is P. R. Doob, The Idea of the Labyrinth from Classical Antiquity through the Middle Ages (Ithaca, 1990).

ì Two programmes for Crispus survive (Fumaroli, ‘Le Crispus’, p. 517), but we have no further details about the specific Naples performances.

226

BARBARA RAVELHOFER

nio chose illustrations in a printed version of his play precisely because the dances had not been sufficiently clear to spectators during performance. Jesuit ballet banked on the pleasures of lived knowledge, or what modern pedagogical theory calls situational learning, in which a holistic experience enhances the memorising of subject matter. Stefonio’s choreographies sought to inculcate an abstract virtue by physical enactment and emotional appeal. In performance, the boys were living their faith. Dancing the complicated passages of the labyrinth, they were made physically aware that, even if a situation seemed chaotic, a higher order was at work, and things would eventually come to a resolution. Even more, Stefonio extended his instructions to a reading audience. The printed choreography can be traced with the reader’s eye and there unfold its didactic potential. Conclusion

In early modern Europe, dance had ethical implications which were recognised by choreographers, practitioners, and observers alike, and alertly

glossed by opponents of the art. Convinced that human passions could be

inferred from bodily action, humanist authors argued for a conscious grooming of manners and movements, and polemicists clamoured loudly for the regulation or abolition of dancing. The question remains whether kinetic

CHOREOGRAPHY AS COMMONPLACE

227

endorsing dancing as ἃ positive activity were consciously employed to shore

up a discipline under attack. Such strategies trusted in the moral authority of the commonplace: long-established truisms bolstered by classical authority served as effective ammunition against polemicists. The labyrinth, once invoked by poets and choreographers and traced by performers in cathedrals and stately Neapolitan palazzi, can still be a moral maze. The faux pas, first introduced into English in the 1670s to denote a compromising act, has become common conversational currency.” Dance scenes which visualise social relationships belong to Western literature’s living tradition, whether we think of the charged ballroom atmosphere in Tolstoy’s novels, the decadent Sicilian valse in Lampedusa’s // Gattopardo, or the delicate steps of Rita Dove’s poetic protagonists. It seems interesting that even word-processing programmes now use commands such as ‘go to’, ‘move’ and ‘track change’. Early modern dance literature (in utramque partem) encouraged thinking about dance in new contexts. The pedalogic pedagogues of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries contributed to a

common dissemination of pseudo-choreographic expressions still in use today.

lessons — both on paper and on the stage — actually achieved the desired

learning outcome. Were Stefonio’s boys frustrated by the discipline of Jesuit ballet, or did they feel elated because they had mastered a difficult formation? A visual commonplace

such as the labyrinth could have helped

emblematically versed audiences (and readers) to decode a complex choreography, but would this have led to greater faith in a universal, benevolent higher order? We do not know to what extent the prescriptive advice of dance manuals was representative of the movements on the dance floors of Rome, Prague, Munich, or London. Perhaps works such as Caroso’s polished encyclo-

paedias represent an elite departure from more widely practised, unscripted forms of kinetic behaviour, now lost to us. What such treatises do tell us,

however, is that, irrespective of country or century, authors in favour of dancing endorsed its qualities by recourse to a number of commonplaces, such as order and proportion, or a supposedly natural catalogue of move-

ments which came to humankind by default. Dancing masters accepted as a given the dance’s social functionality, its usefulness for regulated communication, and its capacity to make people happy with their station in life. The concept of the orderly dancer as a good example to the beholder informed early modern spectacle all over Europe. This essay has also given some space to claims to the contrary, which suggests that commonplaces

% In W. Wycherley, The Plain Dealer (1676), and englished in about 1700 as ‘false step’ (The Oxford English Dictionary, online version ,

last accessed February 1, 2007).

DELLA NOBILTA DI DAME LIB. ΠῚ.

s4t

2 and 3. B. Stefonio, Crispus (Naples, 1604). University of Chicago Library, Special Collections

Research

Center,

shelfmark

PA8585.S64C9

1604.

Eagle

and

Fame

choreographies, appended to the play. The eagle’s contours have been lovingly accentuated in ink by an early reader. The positions of the sixteen dancers are indicated by the sixteen letters A to Q.

1. Illustration to Contrapasso Nuovo, in F. Caroso, Nobilta di dame (1600), p. 241. British Library, shelfmark C.7.d.12. © The British Library. All rights reserved.

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QYARTI CHORI |

COMMONPLACES IN CENDRILLON AND PEAU D’ANE BETWEEN ACADEMIC DISPUTE, FOLKLORE MAGIC, AND MORAL INSTRUCTION! Mette B. Bruun

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i

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Introduction

P x

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In terms of date, this contribution rests on the verge of our volume. The texts of interest, Charles Perrault’s Cendrillon and Peau d’Ane (1690s), are

late compared to the pivotal concern with the reformations of the sixteenth

century. In terms of topic, however, it is suggested that a study of these two

4. Final dance in Crispus. University of Chicago Research Center.

Library,

Special Collections

texts may shed some light on the ways in which commonplaces may have been employed for religious instruction in the aftermath of the CounterReformation’s concern with the edification of lay people, and also add some further perspectives to our spectrum of notions and understandings of ‘the commonplace’. Our point of departure is provided by a conception of commonplace which belongs within Ann Moss’s introductory identification of the flexible and inclusive, indeed ‘elastic’, understanding of the term. The fopoi examined here are, recasting Moss’s words, ‘cultural material with both past and

present currency’;” indeed, Perrault stresses and exploits exactly the ability of these fopoi to work over time, and even to accommodate modifications of a contemporary flavour. Furthermore, we will place our focus on their deployment ‘primarily as tools for argument in discourse designed to promote and reinforce culturally sanctioned modes of thought’ and argue that, through his appropriation of fairytale commonplaces, Perrault champions a particular cultural and religious ethos. For a topos to function as ‘common’, it must imply a degree of either formal or semantic stability. Fairytales offer useful material for the study of this stable connotative cargo of the commonplace and the ways in which it

is negotiated and adapted. On the one hand, they are composed of conven-

! This work forms part of a project carried out at the Centre for the Study of the Cultural Heritage of Medieval Rituals, funded by the Danish National Research Foundation. 2 A. Moss, chapter in this volume, pp. 1-17 (p. 1). ὁ Ibidem.

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METTE B. BRUUN

COMMONPLACES IN ‘CENDRILLON’ AND ‘PEAU D’ANE’

tional elements such as auxiliary animals, supernatural villains, deep forests,

ies. At the same time as he voices these concerns, however, he publishes a

230

parental poverty, eating and sleeping, trials and feats. On the other hand, however, the tales are independent narratives; they exhibit an individual fashioning of customary traits and are steeped in specific historical contexts. Some of them even appear as an author’s autonomous work. This combina-

tion of a common repository of (oral) material and a distinct authorial (liter-

ary) mark comes to the fore with particular weight in the case of Perrault. His tales are carefully devised literary texts, in which the author takes up fairytale types from popular lore and adapts them to his own context and strategy. The two fairytales in focus here are read in the light of synchronic concerns with structure and form and a diachronic attention to the hermeneutics of the commonplace and its position between stability, reception, and appropriation. This point of view is indebted to Robert Darnton’s call for an anthropological, rather than psychological, approach to folktales. The anthropologists, Darnton says, ‘look for the way a raconteur adapts an inherited theme to his audience, so that the specificity of time and place shows through the universality of the topos’. Darnton is interested in the ways in which famine and affliction in the rural population of late seventeenthcentury France reverberate in the pre-Perraldian versions of the tales. This

chapter centres on traces in Perrault of issues debated in the academic cir-

cles of his time: issues associated with aesthetics, history, and religious doc-

trine. The tales’ universal topoi, which, to some extent, may be classified

along the lines suggested in Propp’s Morphology of the Folktale (1928), function as commonplaces in that they have a formulaic compactness and a generically based legitimacy and self-evidence. But commonplaces are also at play, I would argue, in Perrault’s adaptation to a contemporary context. These topoi are more evasive, and their potency shorter-lived; their legitimacy and rhetorical force are rooted in their immediate resonance in a con-

temporary reader-community. The argument of this chapter is based on the following assumption: in his contribution to the aesthetic and ethical Querelle des anciens et des modernes, Perrault is, among other things, concerned with the ideal of a ‘native’ Christian matrix and with the moral edification of his contemporar4 R. Darnton, ‘The Meaning of Mother Goose’, The New York Review 31/1 (Febru-

ary 2, 1984), , last accessed March 2, 2007. Darnton’s socio-historical approach to the tales is fleshed out in ‘Pesants Tell Tales: The Meaning of Mother Goose’, in: R. Darnton, The Great Cat Massacre and

Other Episodes in French Cultural History (Harmondsworth, 21985), pp. 17-78. ° There is a disciplinarily significant tension with L. Marin’s semiotic study of the role of culinary signs in Perrault, based on Lévi-Strauss and Elias, presented in Food for Thought, transl. by M. Hjort (Baltimore, 1989).

231

collection of tales allegedly transmitted through generations and allegedly intended for the moral instruction of children.‘ This coincidence, I suggest, allows us to read the fairytales against the backdrop of the Querelle and Perrault’s involvement in safeguarding the proper Christian climate of the age of Louis XIV; and furthermore to suggest contemporary trends which may have influenced the ways in which he handles and transforms key topoi of fairytale lore.

1. Charles Perrault

Charles Perrault (1628-1703) was the youngest of five brothers. A lawyer by training, he gave up this profession in his early twenties and worked for his brother Pierre, the Receiver General of taxes for Paris. In 1660 a dia-

logue on love and friendship as well as two royal odes caught the attention of Louis XIV’s minister of finances, Jean-Baptiste Colbert, who employed

Perrault as a clerk; and when Colbert established the Petite Académie in 1663, he made him a member. In 1670 the minister elicited a chair in the

Académie française for his protégé. The members had been hesitant as they — correctly — suspected that Colbert intended Perrault to be his mouth and ears in the academy. Perrault shared his contemporaries’ sense of historicising representation and employed his skills in the service of the Petite Académie, devising medals, plates, and other memorials of royal glory.’

In 1672 Perrault left Colbert’s office in favour of a position as royal Contrôleur des Bâtiments, and in this capacity shrewdly brought about the

preference of his brother Claude’s (1613-1688) design for the colonnade of

the Louvre to proposals by architects such as Bernini and Le Brun.’ In 1683 Colbert died; without this support Perrault was excluded from the Academy, and his pension withdrawn. A widower, he now dedicated himself to the upbringing of his children and to his literary work.

6 There seems to be sufficient scholarly support for Charles Perrault’s authorship to allow us, in this context, to discount the fact that the prose tales were published in the name of his nineteen-year-old son, Pierre. 7 The motto chosen for the young Dauphin, for instance, was his proposal. This and other exploits of a similar calibre are described in C. Perrault, Mémoires (Avignon, 1759), pp. 35-42. 3 Perrault, Mémoires, pp. 59-127. See also J. Morgan, Perrault’s Morals for Moderns (New York/Berne/Frankfurt am Main, 1985), pp. 13-16.

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2. La Querelle des anciens et des modernes In his time, Perrault was famed for his involvement in the Querelle des an-

ciens et des modernes, a heated and, at times, bitterly personal controversy in the Academy. The conflict revolved around aesthetic ideals and a dichotomy between, to put it schematically, on the one side an evolutionary view of history as progress with the age of Louis XIV as its apogee; and, on the other side, the claim that seekers of truth and beauty must strive to imitate the ideals of the golden age of Antiquity. The faction of the anciens was led by Nicolas Boileau-Despréaux, who presented his views on the aesthetic preponderance of classical ideals in his Art poétique (1674). The stance of the modernes was epitomised in Perrault and his rejection of any idea of timeless ideals. This viewpoint was substantiated by his two volumes on Les Hommes illustres qui ont paru en France pendant ce siècle (1696 and 1700), which featured a hundred biographies of contemporary figureheads,

attesting to the glory of the seventeenth century.

On January 27, 1687, Perrault read to the Académie frangaise the text

which is often, somewhat simplistically, seen as the instigating factor of the Querelle.? It was a poem entitled Le Siècle de Louis le Grand, a twopronged venture aimed at praising Louis XIV and challenging Boileau. The poem is launched memorably: La belle Antiquité fut toujours venerable; Mais je ne crus jamais qu’elle fust adorable. Je voy les Anciens sans plier les genoux, Ils sont grands, il est vray, mais hommes comme nous;

Et l’on peut comparer sans craindre d’estre injuste, Le Siecle de LOUIS au beau Siecle d’Auguste.!° Fair Antiquity does deserve veneration ° The struggle was incited on the one hand by contemporary personal and academic

circumstances, and, on the other, by the ever vibrant tension in European literature

between factions championing renewal and renaissances and factions harking back to ideals of an earlier golden age, as pointed out in H. R. Jauss, ‘Literarische Tradition und gegenwärtiges Bewusstsein der Modernität’, in: H. Steffen, ed., Aspekte der Modernität (Gôttingen, 1965), pp. 150-197 (p. 151); see also M. Fumaroli, ‘Les A-

beilles et les araignées”, in: A.-M. Lecoq, ed., La Querelle des Anciens et des Modernes (Paris, 2001), pp. 7-218, esp. pp. 7-12. 10 C. Perrault, Parallèle des anciens et des modernes en ce qui regarde les arts et les sciences, in: H. R. Jauss and M. Imdahl, eds, Charles Perrault: Parallèle des anciens et des modernes (Munich, 1964), p. 165. Translations are mine unless other-

wise specified.

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But I never thought it compels adoration. The ancients I view without bending my knee They are great, it is true, but men like we. And one may compare, without fear of injustice, The age of Louis with that of Augustus.

This is not a study of the Querelle. Suffice it to sketch a few aspects of the argument voiced in Perrault’s principal testimony in the debate, Parallèle

des anciens et des modernes, the four volumes of which appeared in 1688, 1690, 1692, and 1697. Parallèle unrolls as a dialogue between /e President,

l'Abbé, and le Chevalier. The first figure represents the stance of the an-

ciens, the second that of the modernes, and the third pushes modernes ar-

guments to the limit, introducing a degree of mirth through its radical nature. Unsurprisingly, Perrault several times professes agreement with

l'Abbé."

Of specific interest in the current context is the claimed inability of

classical texts to convey moral edification. appeal in the Homeric narratives: ‘A l’égard liéres au temps où il a écrit, & il y en a qui regard to mores, there are those which are

L’Abbé notices the janus-faced des mœurs, il y en a de particusont de tous les temps’ (‘With particular to the time when he

wrote, and there are those which are relevant at all times’).'? The manners

which are specific to Homer’s own age, such as heroes who cook or prin-

cesses who do the laundry, often seem ridiculous now, and were better left

out.!? Homer should not be blamed for representing the customs of his time, but nonetheless /’Abbé is appalled to see Achilles depicted as ‘injuste, bru-

tal, impitoyable, sans foy, & sans loy’ (‘unjust, brutal, merciless, without belief, and without law’). Also Ulysses is such a mixture ‘d’héroïque & de

bas, qu’il est presque impossible de le bien définir” (‘of the heroic and the low, that it is almost impossible to characterise him’).'* The virtue of humil-

ity, albeit most important of all, is never found in the ancients;'° and pride,

which is the root of all vices, passes in them as a virtue.'® ‘Croyez-moy’, the Abbot states, ‘il n’y a que la Religion Chrestienne qui ait formé un veritable Systéme de Morale’ (‘Believe me, it is only the Christian religion which has formed a regular moral system’).'’ This is Perrault’s challenge to the anciens; rather than conveying timeless truths of eternal standing, the antique p. 283. 1! For instance Parallèle des anciens et des modernes, ΠΙ, preface; edition,

12 Tdem, p. 47; edn, p. 295. 13 Thidem.

'4 Idem, p. 50; edn, p. 296. 15 Parallèle, IV, p. 150; edn, p. 410. 16 Idem, pp. 147-148; edn, pp. 409-410. 17 Jdem, pp. 144-145; edn, p. 409.

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texts are bound by the, at times, vile standards and manners of their own time in a way which makes them in part morally pointless to modern peo18 ple.

which is familiar to his readers. Both concerns reverberate in Perrault’s own

235

modernised fairytales.

Perrault also discusses the matrix and models taken up in poetry. His

3. Perrault’s ‘Contes’

(...) car imiter les Anciens n’est pas dire ce qu’ils ont dit, mais dire les choses de la maniere qu’ils les ont dites; les Anciens ont employé dans leurs Poésies

In the long run it was not the Querelle but a collection of fairy tales that secured Perrault’s standing. Between 1691 and 1693 there appeared three contes in verse;”' in the course of the following years, eight prose tales came out. In 1697 the prose tales were published together in a collection, Histoires ou Contes du temps passé: Avec des Moralitez, including, among others,

Parallèle contains a response to a friend who has complained that contemporary poets do not employ fables in their works. Perrault answers:

les Fables qui estoient connués de tous ceux de leur siecle comme

faisant la

meilleure partie de leur Religion; si nos Poétes veulent faire comme les Anciens, il faut qu’ils mettent dans leurs Poésies ce qui est connu de tous ceux du siecle

où

nous

sommes;

&

commes

[sic]

les

Poëtes

Grecs

&

Latins

n’employoient point dans leurs ouvrages la Mithologie des Egyptiens, les Poétes François ne doivent point employer les Fables des Romains & des Grecs s’ils ont envie de les prendre pour leurs modelles.'” (...) thus to imitate the ancients is not to say what they said, but to say things in the manner in which they said them; in their poetry, the ancients employed the fables which were known to everybody in their days, as they formed the more important part of their religion. If our poets will do what the ancients did, they must take up in their poetry that which is known by everybody in our century; and just as Greek and Latin poets did not employ the mythology of the Egyptians in their works, French poets should not employ the fables of the Greeks

Le Petit Chaperon rouge, La Belle au bois dormant, Le Chat botté, Cendrillon, Barbe Bleue, and Le Petit Poucet? Whereas the three verse contes ap-

peared with the avant-garde of a new literary genre, the last eight emerged in a veritable surge of fairytales. Perrault’s narratives are suspended between past and present. The

moral for Peau d’Ane reads: ‘Le Conte de Peau d’ Ane est difficile à croire, /

Mais tant que dans le Monde on aura des Enfants, / Des Mères et des Mères-grands, / On en gardera la mémoire’™ (‘The tale of Donkey-skin is

hard to believe, but as long as we have children, mothers, and grandmothers in the world, we shall retain it in our memory’); and recurrent allu-

sions to the role played by mothers and governesses in the retelling and

transmission of the tales evoke ideas of a temporally indefinite (oral) trans-

mission. At the same time, a literary and actualising element comes to the

and Romans, if they want to take them as their models.

It is little wonder that, three hundred years later, Perrault’s work was to

catch the interest of H. R. Jauss, one of the founding fathers of Rezeptions-

ästhetik. In this passage, Perrault touches upon several aspects that were to

be key Jaussian themes, most notably the alterity of past texts and the con-

cern with the implied reader.?° Contemporary texts are more accessible than

those of the past, Perrault argues, but if an ancient matrix is indeed employed, the author should strive to manoeuvre within a frame of reference

18 Soriano positions Perrault’s engagement in the Querelle in the context of Christian versus pagan heritage and suggests that his argument retains Tertullian’s and Augustine’s dismissal of pagan authors resuscitated in the Tridentine deprecation of classical texts vis-a-vis the humanist predilection for them (M. Soriano, Le Dossier Perrault (Paris, 1972), p. 28). Soriano’s representation of the Augustinian stance is, perhaps, a little sweeping.

? Perrault, Parallèle, IV, pp. 315-316; edn, p. 451.

* Programmatically laid out in Alteritdt und Modernität der mittelalterlichen Litera-

tur (Munich, 1977).

*! La Marquise de Salusses ou la Patience de Griseldis and Peau d’Ane were printed by the printer of the King and the French Academy, Jean-Baptiste Coignard. Les Souhaits ridicules first appeared in the Mercure Galant (see Morgan, Perrault's Morals, pp. 27-28). Perrault produced a composite range of tales between 1675 and 1699, including, significantly, translations from Latin (Morgan, Perrault’s Morals, . 36-38). ; The collection was published by Claude Barbin, who had published Fontaine’s

Nouvelles en vers (1665) and Fables choisies (1668). In 1704 Barbin’s widow was to publish the first volume of Mille et une Nuits: contes arabes; G. Rouger, ed.,

Contes de Perrault (Paris, 1974 [1967]), p. xlix. The Parallèle attests to Perrault’s admiration for the novelty and striking charm of Fontaine’s fables (Parallèle, ΤΠ,

pp. 503-504; edn, pp. 359-360. One of Fontaine’s assets is that he, according to Per-

rault, does not model . 360).

Ἢ

i

among

others,

his fables on classical types (Parallèle, III, p. 305; edn,

Mmes

d’Aulnoy

and

Durand,

Comtesse

de Murat,

Mlles

L’Héritier (Perrault’s niece) and de la Force and by Le Chevalier de Mailly and

Sieur de Préchac. See Contes de Perrault, p. x\viii. 4 Perrault, ‘Peau d’Ane’, in Contes, p. 75. See also Perrault, ‘Préface’, in Contes, p. 4. Rouger’s edition of the Contes gives the text in modern spelling and orthogra-

phy.

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fore, not least in the rhymed moral of each tale, which epitomises its morale utile. Muratore is sceptical towards what she sees as the polarisation of an ‘original text’ and Perrault’s updated versions, basically identified via the ‘novel, independent interpretation’ in the morals.” But it may be suggested that the relation between tale and moral, formally if not always in terms of content, attests to the attempt to establish a renewed text, while staking a claim to age, diffusion, and general validity. Where did Perrault pick up this allegedly age-old matrix? Soriano, re-

Bonaventure des Périers’s Nouvelle CXXIX (published posthumously in 1558), which features a Peau d'Ane, commends itself as a potential inspiration. Suffice it, for our purposes, to conclude that Perrault took up a substance and a genre with a broad popular appeal which had previously been employed in a few but significant literary works, and shaped it in his own way. Jack Zipes states that, in their oral shape, these tales were socially

ferring to the allusions to governesses and grandmothers in the preface to the prose collection, argues that an orally transmitted matter lies at the heart

of the Contes;”’ a thesis augmented by Darnton’s suggestion that the nurse of Perrault’s son was his principal informant. Also Perrault’s own refer-

ence, in his Parallèle, to ‘nos contes de Peau d’asne’”’ seems to indicate

that he gleaned his material from a stock of commonly known narratives of the Donkey-skin type. But literary antecedents have been proposed as well. Perrault, for one,

points to generic concordances between his tales and those of Antiquity: Peau d’Ane, he states, for instance, is of the same genre as Apuleius’s fable

about Psyche: entirely fictitious and of great antiquity. But, unsurprisingly, this prime mover of the modernes is at pains to stress that the moral of his tale is quite different from that of Apuleius. The old fables are written only

to please and show utter disregard for morality.* In the fables that ‘our ancients’ have invented for their children, however, care is taken that all fig-

transmissible: told around the rural hearths and by lower-class wet-nurses in

upper-class nurseries. But, when subjected to writing, Zipes argues, they were adapted to contemporary societal, i.e. courtly and bourgeois, requirements. In this process, ‘The morality and ethics of a male-dominated Christian civil order had to become part and parcel of the literary fairy tale’.**

In our case, it may be suggested that the tales became domesticised because they, in Perrault’s view, commended themselves as a genre which fit-

ted his ideals regarding communication of a particular Christian civil order: they — allegedly — belonged to a familiar and non-pagan tradition, repre-

sented moral integrity and, we may add, were open to appropriation. In these tales, the courtisan and académicien saw a possibility of fleshing out

the programmatic statements of the Paralléle. Perrault shaped his version of the tales as an address to his contemporaries on their moral and historical home ground while, in significant ways, updating them for the siécle de Louis le Grand. We will now look more closely at Peau d’Ane and Cendrillon in order to analyse aspects of this updating.

ures get their just deserts, and that those who are honnéte, patient, laborieux, and obéissant are rewarded.*' Scholars have suggested that Perrault

4. Texts

G. Straparola (1550-1553), which appeared in French in 1560/ 1576, and the

4.1 Peau d’Ane (1693)

drew on the literary legacy of, among others, the Italian Piacevoli Notti by

Neapolitan // Pentamerone penned by G. Basile (1630s), two collections of

fairytales couched in a framework inspired by the Decameron.” But also

* Perrault, Préface’, in Contes, p. 3.

2 M. J. Muratore, Mimesis and Metatextuality in the French Neo-Class ical Text:

Reflexive Readings of La Fayette, Scarron, Cyrano ?7 Soriano, Les Contes de °8 Darnton, ‘Peasants Tell

Fontaine, Moliére, Racine, Guilleragues, Madame de La de Bergerac and Perrault (Geneva, 1994), p. 140. Perrault, pp. 79-80. Tales’, p. 19.

” Perrault, Parallèle, II, p. 126; edn, p. 211.

30 In the Parallèle he decries the filthiness of the Golden Ass of Lucius and Apuleius, Parallèle, II, p. 126; edn, p. 211. a Perrault, ‘Préface’, in Contes, p. 5. 32 Soriano argues that Perrault must have known Basile’s work, but doubts that he

understood the Neapolitan dialect in which it was written (Soriano, Les Contes de Perrault, pp. 75-76). Elsewhere, however, Soriano warns against neglecting Perrault’s potential access to I] Pentamerone through his brother Pierre, who translated

237

This tale falls into three parts. In the first, a queen on her deathbed makes the king promise that he will not remarry unless he finds a woman more beautiful and good than herself. Only their daughter meets these conditions, and the king is struck with incestuous passion. The princess seeks the aid of her fairy godmother, who helps her to three dresses, but does not save her from the paternal infatuation. Dressed in a Donkey-skin, the princess even-

tually leaves for a distant land. The second part recounts Donkey-skin’s employment as a pig-feeder on a faraway farm. On Sundays and Feast days, she takes out her dresses, hapTassoni’s La Secchia rapita, including passages in a variety of Italian dialects (Soriano, Les Contes de Perrault, pp. 115-116).

531. Zipes, Fairy Tales and the Art of Subversion: The Classical Genre for Children and the Process of Civilization (London, 1983), pp. 8-9 (p. 9).

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ΜΕΤΤΕ Β. BRUUN

pily admiring her own appearance in the mirror. One Sunday, a prince passes by; he sees Donkey-skin through the keyhole and is rapt with passion. The prince now wastes away yearning for the girl. In the third part. the prince’s mother makes Donkey-skin bake a cake for the ailing prince, but her ring falls into the dough. The prince finds the ring and launches a quest for its owner. Donkey-skin marries the prince; the bride’s father attends — his love now purified. 4.2 Cendrillon (1697)

In terms of tale-genealogy, Cendrillon and Peau d'Ane belong to the same family. In the Perraldian versions there are significant differences, which pertain partly to the development of different types, partly to the fact that Donkey-skin was one of the first tales Perrault published, whereas Cendril-

lon was one of the last. While Peau d’Ane offers an at times blurred plot phrased in verbose verse, Cendrillon has much of the unequivocality and the pur, sec & simple, which, according to the Paralléle, is necessary when addressing seventeenth-century French readers.** Perrault’s version of this tale features the well-known story of a motherless girl who is abused by her stepmother and stepsisters; she is charged with the basest tasks in the house and called upon to prepare her sisters for the royal ball. Through the interference of her fairy godmother, she receives a carriage and garb, which makes her fit to attend the ball on two consecu-

tive evenings. She charms everyone, above all the prince. On the first might

she manages to leave before the clock strikes twelve, but on the second she

forgets the time; she loses her glass slipper but eventually captures the prince. 5. Commonplaces Soriano states, discussing Cendrillon:

‘Le conteur alterne avec adresse la

IN ‘CENDRILLON’ AND ‘PEAU D’ANE’

239

retain the principal features of their tradition: the motherless girl, the manual labour, the meeting with the prince, the test, the wedding. The other reg-

ister of commonplaces pertains to the tales as autonomous texts laden with contemporary

details. The

first, formal,

kind of commonplace

functions

across time. Within the reassuring framework of the fairytale genre, even instances where reason is defied seem perfectly logical to a modern reader. The contemporary commonplaces, however, are recognisable and decipherable to various, often limited, degrees; they hover somewhere between the exotic and the hermetic. Some contemporary details may be readily savoured, such as when, in Peau d’Ane, the court is robbed of a marriage, because the bride-to-be has fled: ‘Partout se répandit un triste et noir chagrin; / Plus de Noces, plus de Festin, / Plus de Tarte, plus de Dragées; / Les Dames de la Cour, toutes dé-

couragées, / N’en dinérent point la plupart*’ (‘Everywhere there spread a sad and dark grief, / no more wedding, no more feast, / no more tarts nor sugar-coated almonds; / most of the ladies of the court, dismayed, / did not

have anything to eat’). Particularly in Cendrillon, Perrault revels in such traits of up-to-date hue. Whereas Cendrillon lives in the attic, the stepdaughters have the chambers with parquets, modern beds, and mirrors extending from head to τος; two entire pages are spent on their attire for the ball, on how false beauty spots (mouches) were obtained and twelve laces broken in the pursuit of slim waists; and eventually Cendrillon must voice

in her opinion on account of her goût bon, a virtue of no little consequence

the 1690s? Simonsen remarks that Cendrillon developed from a tale of food, featuring a magic fruit tree in the central role, to a tale of finery.”° This matches Darnton’s statement that, in the versions circulating among the haut starved peasants, these tales are all about satiation;*! whereas about just not are tales these But monde concern is with embellishment.

bourgeois bijoux, and the contemporary details also imply weightier topics, tales, although in attractive guise. After all, in his introduction to the prose to wish children make inevitably Perrault does estimate that the tales will

technique des lieux communs et des traits généraux et celle qui au contraire

multiplie les détails concrets et les précisions historiques’. With a slight

modification of this characterisation, it may be suggested that, in these two tales, Perrault employs two registers of commonplaces. One register is related to the type and genre and may be identified through surveys of narra-

tive variants of the Cinderella-tale.* The two tales in question unmistakably

3 Perrault, Parallèle, II, pp. 62-63; edn, p. 299. 35 Soriano, Les Contes de Perrault, p. 146. 36 Such as M. R. Cox, Cinderella: Three Hundred and Forty-Five Variants of Cinderella, Catskin, and Cap οὐ Rushes (London, 1893).

37 Perrault, Peau d’Ane, in Contes, p. 65. 38 Tdem, Ρ. 157:

3° Idem, pp. 158-159.

Contes (Paris, 40 The observation was first made by M. Djeribi; Simonsen, Perrault: 38. 1992), pp. 93-94. See also Darnton, “Peasants Tell Tales’, p.

41 Darnton, ‘Peasants Tell Tales’, pp. 30-40. A the full belly appears in the lack of appetite in by P. Lewis, Seeing through the Mother Goose of Charles Perrault (Stanford, 1996), p. 160. pieces of orange and lemon — sophisticated, but tes, p. 161.

significant reversal of the theme of each of the love-sick princes, noted Tales: Visual Turns in the Writings Cinderella in turn serves her sisters hardly satiating; Cendrillon, in Con-

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imitate those who fare well, and that, as children are not yet capable of stomaching ‘solid truths’, these must be embedded in pleasant stories which befit a tender age.”

sustained by a godparent: ‘Pour votre avancement ce seront choses vaines, / Si vous n’avez, pour les faire valoir, / Ou des parrains ou des marraines’.”” This moral, whether ironic or not, is rooted in the structural — and sacramen-

241

tal — societal conditions of the time. As stated in the dictionary of Furetiére

5.1 The auxiliary

(1690), the marreine is a

Soriano states that Perrault alternates between generic commonplaces and concrete historical details. It may be argued that, at times, he merges the

two. This seems to apply to the magic auxiliary, which comes in a variety of

guises in the type of tale to which Cendrillon and Peau d’Ane belong. In a sixth-century BC version, an eagle carries the sandal of an Egyptian girl to the king.* In the Chinese ninth-century version, shoes and finery are procured through the bones of a magic fish.“ In several European variants, the dead mother helps the protagonist, but often a tree or an animal plays the

part of the beneficent intermediary;** in a French tradition the auxiliary in

two cases appears to be Virgin Mary,“ and, in Basile’s version of the Cinderella-story, La Gatta Cenerentola is aided by a fairy from Sardinia. Perrault’s casting of the fairy godmother in this part is apparently a

novelty to the genre. This figure is described respectively as ‘sa Marraine (...) une admirable Fée’ (Peau d’Ane) and ‘sa Marreine, qui était Fée’ (Cen-

drillon)."” Whereas Donkey-skin’s godmother lives in a grotto, Cendrillon’s seems slightly more domesticated and presumably has more specific conno-

tations of societal and familial commitments; after all, the moral states that Cendrillon’s grandmother both dresses and instructs her, ‘en la dressant, en

Fille ou femme qui tient un enfant sur les fonts de Baptesme. On appelle aussi des marreines au Sacrement de Confirmation. C'est d’ordinaire la marreine qui nomme les filles. Il se contracte une alliance spirituelle entre la marreine & son filleuil. (...) Ce mot est derivé de mere ou de mater.

Girl or woman who holds a child at the baptismal font. Godmothers are also assigned for the Sacrament of Confirmation. It is normally the godmother who names the girls. There exists a spiritual bond between the godmother and her goddaughter. (...) The word derives from mere or mater.

Muratore argues that ‘Perrault’s conclusion that Cendrillon illustrates the rewards of having good godparents can only be read as a derisive distortion of whatever intended message the text initially harbored’.*' It is, however,

not a distortion of the text in its Perraldian guise. The godmother serves as a renewed commonplace, which personifies the generically obligatory super-

natural element while adding a rational and recognisable tenor of familial structures and strategies as a vital criterion for progress in the world.

l’instruisant”.“ In Peau d’Ane, the godmother appears briefly at the begin-

5.2 The Casuist

tion from minion to queen of the ball revolves around the godmotherly magic, and the figure is invested with a considerable import. Perrault dedicates the autre moralité of the tale to the value of godparents, suggesting that esprit, courage, and other such advantageous talents are useless unless

Peau d’Ane features a Casuist, who is a figure with another set of contemporary connotations. He enters the scene only briefly but, in his endorsement of the king’s incestuous passion, makes quite an impression: ‘Il trouva méme un Casuiste / Qui jugea que le cas se pouvait proposer’ (‘He even

ning and only returns at the finale. In Cendrillon, the climactic transforma-

found a Casuist / who deemed that the case could be made’).

bated issue, but one that falls outside the scope of this essay. Strabo, Geographia, 17.1.11, in: H. L. Jones, transl., The Geography of Strabo, vill (London/Cambridge, MA, 1967 [1932]), pp. 92-94.

This Casuist comes across as a heavily charged character at a time when the Jansenist movement was making the religious landscape quake. The Jansenists propagated a Catholicism based on the Augustinian doctrine of grace; the Jesuits were their fiercest opponents, and the Jesuit Casuists a

(Beijing, 1932), pp. 45-85, esp. pp. 52-55. The geographical and chronolog ical spread of the type are not our concern, but do add an ironic perspective to Perrault’s

‘° Idem, p. 165. This passage lends itself seductively to biographical speculation. Perrault’s own godfather was his older brother Pierre, who was to secure his em-

“a Perrault, Préface, in Contes, p. 6. The audience of Perrault’s contes is a much de-

R. D. Jameson,

‘Cinderella in China’, in: Three Lectures on Chinese Folklore

belief that he is taking up a specifically non-pagan matrix.

A. B. Rooth, The Cinderella Cycle (Lund, 1951), esp. pp. 151-155.

4° Idem, p. 43.

εἰ Perrault, Peau d’Ane and Cendrillon, in Contes, pp. 61 and 159. Perrault, Cendrillon, in Contes, p. 164.

ployment, and with whom he took up residence; Perrault, Mémoires, p. 1. Also the

author’s relationship with Colbert springs to mind in this context.

°0 A. Furetiére, Dictionnaire universel, ed. A. Rey, 3 vols. (Paris, 1978), ‘marreine’.

°l Muratore, Mimesis and Metatextuality, p. 149. °? Perrault, Peau d’Ane, in Contes, pp. 60-61.

v 8.

prise ter Brace

242

COMMONPLACES IN ‘CENDRILLON’ AND ‘PEAU D’ANE’

METTE B. BRUUN

primary goal of their contempt. There are several indications that was sympathetic to the Jansenist cause. His brother Nicolas was a supporter of the Jansenist figurehead Antoine Arnauld, and Charles speaks favourably about Jansenist works.® Perhaps it is especially

Perrault staunch himself Pascal’s

version of Jansenism which looms in the background? At least Perrault’s

La beauté pour le sexe est un rare trésor, De l’admirer jamais on ne se lasse;

Mais ce qu’on nomme bonne grace Est sans prix, et vaut mieux encor.

(23

scorn of the Casuist’s dubious judgement in Peau d’Ane echoes Pascal’s thirteenth Lettre provinciale (1656), famed for its polemical display of Casuist deliberations on murder. Here Pascal argues against the Jesuit Les-

Belles, ce don vaut mieux que d’étre bien coiffées,

fies his opponents: ‘Diriez-vous, mes Pères, qu’il ne faut pas permettre facilement, dans la pratique, les adultères ou les incestes? Ne doit-on pas conclure au contraire (...) que la pratique même en peut être quelquefois permise, quoique rarement?” (‘Would you say, my fathers, that one cannot easily permit, in practice, adultery or incest? Must we not conclude, on the contrary, (...) that the very practice may sometimes be permitted, albeit

Beauty is a rare treasure for the [female] sex,

sius’s formulation: ‘Il semble qu’on n’en doit pas FACILEMENT permettre la pratique’ (‘it seems that one cannot easily permit the practice’). Pascal de-

rarely?’).

By furnishing the villainous and incestuous paternal party of his tale

with Jesuit connotations, Perrault seems to hint at the Jansenist conflict and

its satirical undercurrents. He thereby extends the ample stock repository of fairytale characters; without bursting the customary narrative coherence of the tale, he offers a catchword, a commonplace from the polemics and satire of his days, which must have been ripe with connotations for a particular contemporary reader-community. The Casuist may be considered one, and the most evident, of several potential hints at a Jansenist vocabulary in Perrault’s fairytales. 5.3 Bonne grâce

The first moral of Cendrillon praises the virtue of bonne grâce, which is far more valuable than beauty:

°3 Soriano ascribes great importance to the Perraults as ‘une famille fortement influencée par le jansénisme’ (Soriano, Le Dossier, p. 24). In the Paralléle, the Abbot praises Arnauld and Nicole’s work Art de penser (La Logique de Port Royal) of 1662 as surpassing Aristotle (Perrault: Parallèle des anciens et des modernes, IV,

P. 128-131; edn, p. 405).

* Treizième lettre écrite par l'auteur des lettres au provincial, in: B. Pascal, Les

Provinciales, ed. J. Steinmann (Paris, 1962), I, p. 212. In the Parallèle, Perrault has

the Abbé praise the purity of language, nobility of thought, and finesse in the gibes of Pascal’s Lettres provinciales. Even the naturally impatient Chevalier has read them ten times, enjoying the longest the most (Parallèle, Il, p. 122; edn, p. 210).

243

Pour engager un cceur, pour en venir a bout,

La bonne grace est le vrai don des Fées; Sans elle on ne peut rien, avec elle, on peut tout.”

We never cease to admire it;

But that which we call ‘bonne grâce” Is invaluable and worth much more. ) Beauties, this gift is worth more than having your hair done well, In order to engage a heart and make it yours,

This ‘bonne grace’ is the true gift of fairies; Without it, we can do nothing — with it, everything is possible.

The last sentence of this moral may have struck a particular chord with those readers who appreciated Casuist parody. Associations are difficult to chart, but it does seem fruitful moires, one the themes of which (1655-1656), a leading Jansenist, of confession. Charles Perrault’s

to make a brief is the legal case for his attacks on brother Nicolas,

detour to Perrault’s Méagainst Antoine Arnauld the Jesuit administration a theologian, supported

Arnauld to an extent, which caused his expulsion from the Sorbonne. Charles Perrault held this brother in high esteem:

Outre que mon frere avoit beaucoup étudié, Dieu lui avoit fait la grace d’entrer si bien & si avant dans l’esprit de la Religion, que j’oserois dire que peu de gens ont mieux sçu que lui le véritable systéme de la Religion chrétienne.*° Apart from the fact that my brother had studied much, God had given him the

grace of entering so well and so far into the spirit of religion, that I dare say that few people have known better than he the true system of the Christian religion.

As in the Paralléle, Perrault here foregrounds the system of the Christian religion. And with Nicolas so well versed in it, who was better suited to > Perrault, Cendrillon, in Contes, p. 164. 36 Perrault, Mémoires, p. 10.

METTE Β. BRUUN

COMMONPLACES IN ‘CENDRILLON’ AND ‘PEAU D’ ANE’

teach Perrault and a group of friends about the implications of the case against Arnauld and the doctrine of grace? A crux is the question of whether the apostle Peter had grace when he sinned. Pascal summarised Arnauld’s stance in the sentence: ‘Que la grace sans laquelle on ne peut rien, a manqué à S. Pierre dans sa chute’ (‘That grace, without which one can do nothing, was wanting in St. Peter at his fall’).*’ Perrault went quite a few steps into the dogmatic profundities when, in his Mémoires, he recapitulated the argument such as Nicolas had con-

Donkey-Skin is led to her prince via the feeding of the pigs in a faraway land — in a somewhat elusive mirroring of the prodigal son of Luke 15. The theme of transformation is played out largely by means of colourcodes. On the one hand, there are the three dresses obtained from the king and described in lavish detail. They are coloured respectively in the shade

prochain), which brings about good deeds, and a distant power (pouvoir éloigné), which does not bring good deeds as such but only the ability to do them. In his sin, Peter was deprived of the first if not of the latter. Perrault concludes that ‘M. Arnauld n’avoit point mal parlé quand il avoit dit que la Grace sans laquelle on ne peut rien lui avoit manqué’ (‘M. Arnauld did not speak badly when he said that the grace without which one can do nothing was wanting in him’), stressing twice within a few lines the phrase ‘la

superbe tissu d’or et de diamants’).°' The dresses are described both when they are first commissioned and, later, when the girl admires herself in the

244

veyed it: the grace of God gives two powers: a proximate power (pouvoir

Grace, sans laquelle on ne peut rien’.*

Did this phrase by any chance resurface as Perrault was coining the moral of Cendrillon and its praise of the mundane virtue of bonne grâce — sans elle on ne peut rien? 5.4 Transformation The fopos of transformation belongs within the conventions of this type of tale, but Perrault seems to attach special significance to it, and makes the

transfigurations of his heroines in the two tales in focus here a point de repère. Both Cendrillon and Peau d’Ane experience an elevation, which

goes by way of debasement and a decisive moment of change, epitomised in their magic dresses.

245

of time: more azure than even heaven itself (‘la belle robe bleue / Que tout l’azur des Cieux ne saurait égaler’);”” the moon: which is, however, less

splendid in her silvery robe (‘La Lune est moins pompeuse en sa robe d’argent’);°° and the sun: of a superb fabric of gold and diamonds (‘D’un

mirror, her countenance red and white (‘vermeille et blanche’). On the other hand, the narrative abounds in shades of black. Her real

appearance hidden behind the hide, people describe Donkey-skin to her future mother-in-law with disgust: ‘Cette Peau d’Ane est une noire Taupe / Plus vilaine encore et plus gaupe / Que le plus sale Marmiton’® (‘This Donkey-skin is a black mole, more hideous and filthy than the dirtiest kitchen-drudge’). The dirtiness forms a particular category. It comes across in the reflection of people’s view of Donkey-skin as ‘maussade’ and ‘pleine d’ordure’™ (‘disgusting’ and ‘full of scraps’), in the remark that, beneath her ‘crasse’ and ‘haillons’ (‘grime’ and ‘rags’), she still had the heart of a princess,” and, finally, in the comment that she is ‘La bête (...) la plus laide, / Qu’on puisse voir aprés le Loup’ (‘The most ugly beast / that one can see, apart from the wolf τὰ

Eventually, as the ring is tried on all kinds of girls, red and black paws

(‘rouges et noirs pattes’), no less than delicate hands, have hopes of good

fortune. But then the proper hand is found: “(...) elle tira de dessous sa peau noire / Une petite main qui semblait de l’ivoire / Qu’un peu de pourpre a coloré (..) 7 (‘She held out from beneath her black hide / a small hand

which looked like ivory / coloured by a drop of purple’). As a final, puzzling, contribution to the theme of blackness, Moors mounted on elephants

°7 The quotation stems from Arnauld’s second Lettre ἃ un duc et pair (1655). Pascal, Les Provinciales, 1, p. 21 and note p. 280. °8 Perrault, Mémoires, pp. 18-19. The passage about Nicolas’s instruction on Arnauld is headed by a pregnant: Origine des Lettres Provinciales, and it concludes with verve: Pierre Perrault recounted the conversation to an attendant of the duke of Luynes who was at Port-Royal and urged the people there to inform the public about the events at the Sorbonne. Eight days later, Perrault tells us, the attendant returned

to Pierre and Charles and handed them the first of the Lettres Provinciales with the words: ‘Voila, le fruit de ce que vous me dites il y a huit jours’ (‘Here is the fruit of what you told me eight days ago’) (Perrault, Mémoires, p. 20). I have not come across references to a connection between the provincial letters and the Perrault family outside Charles Perrault’s Mémoires.

appear among the wedding guests, ‘Qui, plus noirs et plus laids encore, /

°° Perrault, Peau d’Ane, in Contes, p. 66.

60 Idem, p. 62.

ΟἹ Jdem, p. 63.

62 Idem, p. 66. 63 Idem, p. 69.

* Idem, p. 65.

6S Idem, p. 67.

% Idem, p. 68.

7 Tdem, Do 12:

246

COMMONPLACES

ΜΕΤΤΕ Β. BRUUN

Faisaient peur aux petits enfants”® (‘who, even more black and ugly, /

scared the small children’). There is a recurrent oscillation between such

soiled blackness and Donkey-skin’s polychrome glory. Soriano states that Peau d'Ane presumably relates to an oral version of Basile’s L'Orsa: as an undeniable if liberal imitation. The theme of incestuous passion runs through both tales, but, in Basile, the princess is turned into a bear by means of a magic stick. The bear is quite different from the filthy and black but anthropomorphic figure of Donkey-skin. Basile alludes to its coarse bristles, but otherwise describes the animal as cuddly and pampered throughout. Viewed against the backdrop of L'Orsa, the recurrent references to blackness and filthiness in Peau d’Ane seem to be Perrault’s invention and a point which he emphasises. The glory to which Donkey-skin rises from her stained blackness is epitomised in her marriage with the prince; but more significant in our context is the splendour in which she appears before her mirror on Sundays and feast days, suggestively displayed from the point of view of the prince, gazing through the keyhole: Trois fois, dans la chaleur du feu qui le transporte, / Il voulut enfoncer la porte; / Mais croyant voir une Divinité, / Trois fois par le respect son bras fut arrété.”” Three times, in the heat of the fire inciting him, / he wished to break down the

door; / but believing he saw a divinity, / three times did respect hold back his arm.

The filthy kitchen-girl has been transfigured to the point of sanctification.

Both Peau element in the servants in the mots showered are even more position in the

d’Ane and Cendrillon display verbal mockery as a crucial debasement of the heroine. Donkey-skin is abused by the kitchen, and a whole verse is spent on the ridicule and bons on ποτ. In Cendrillon, the implications of the verbal assault profound. Her two soubriquets mark her humble status and cinders; she is called Cendrillon by the younger, and more

merciful, sister, and Cucendron by the older. Simonsen states that, in the

popular

tradition,

Cinderella’s

ash-allusions

connote

purification

and

mourning, and her name thus invests her with some serenity. In Perrault,

however, the ashes seem primarily to connote labour and dirtiness.”2 De°8 Idem, p. 74. ® Soriano, Les Contes de Perrault, p.

IN ‘CENDRILLON’ AND ‘PEAU D’ANE’

spite the statement that she is positioned at the fireplace, Cendrillon is constantly busy in the proximity of the sisters; and it is exactly the mock similarity which exhibits her difference. This is epitomised in comments from the sisters, such as: ‘on rirait bien si on voyait un Cucendron aller au Bal”?

(‘we would surely laugh if we were to see an Ash-bum go to the ball’). The

scoffing of the girl is not a common topos in this type of tale. Often the new family does not spite the motherless protagonist, but rather pities her childish ways and wishes.”* In Cendrillon the mockery is central.

Eventually Cendrillon bursts into tears, secures the attention of her fairy godmother, and spurs on the transformation. Just like the dressing of

the stepsisters was earlier spelled out in droll detail, the transfiguration of the heroine is carried out step by step under the directions of the pragmatic

fairy. From a pumpkin fetched from the garden, the godmother makes a car-

riage. From the mice in the mousetrap she creates six (mouse-)grey horses and so on, and Cendrillon, grasping the rationale of the magic, suggests that a rat from the rat trap be turned into a coachman; ‘Tu as raison’, the magic fairy exclaims.”

This focus on transformation curiously echoes Ovidian metamorphoses. But in the pronounced radicalism of the states involved in their transforma-

tions, the two contes display a particular tension. Once again we shall turn to Jansenist traits in the Perraldian frame of resonance. In the Parallèle, Per-

rault displays the double knowledge that was lacking in the ancients:

(...) ils ne se sont point connus eux-mesmes, puisqu’ils n’ont point sçu, comme je l’ay déja dit, la corruption de la nature humaine par le peché originel. Ces

deux connoissances leur ayant manqué, celle du souverain bien qui est Dieu où

ils devoient tendre, & celle de la corruption de leur nature qu’ils devoient corriger & reformer pour parvenir ἃ la possession de ce souverain bien, leur Morale n’a pù estre que tres defectueuse.°

They did not know themselves, because they did not recognise, as I have already said, the corruption of human nature through original sin. As this double knowledge was wanting in them: that of the sovereign good that is God, towards whom they should strive, and that of their nature, which they should correct and reform in order to possess this sovereign good, their morality cannot have been but very faulty.

117. The donkey which produces gold before

being turned into a skin may be borrowed from Basile’s La Fiaba dell ‘Orco (Soriano, Les Contes de Perrault, p. 118). 10 Perrault, Peau d’Ane, in Contes, p. 68.

74 Simonsen, Perrault: Contes, pp. 88-89.

2 Simonsen, Perrault: Contes, p. 92.

"° Perrault, Parallèle, IV, p. 146; edn, p. 409.

7 Idem, p. 66.

247

3 Perrault, Cendrillon, in Contes, p. 158.

75 Perrault, Cendrillon, in Contes, p. 159.

248

ΜΕΤΤΕ Β. BRUUN

This statement may be considered an example οἵ Perraldian echoes of the Jansenist Augustinianism voiced in Pascal’s provincial letters as well as his Pensées, such as the ponderings on the incomprehensibility of original sin,

without which man would be incomprehensible to himself (164), on God as

the sovereign good (181), and on the double teaching of Christianity: man is vile and abominable and must nevertheless desire similitude with God (383).’’ Above all, it may be argued that the radical and fundamental Jansenist tension between the baseness of original sin and the quest for similitude with God resonates in the attention directed to, for instance, Donkey-

skin’s double appearance: on the one hand disfigured by blackness and

beastliness, and, on the other, transfigured, on Sundays and feast days, into a red and white creature which may be taken for divine. Marin, in Food for

Thought, has proposed that the comprehensive sign theory elaborated by the

COMMONPLACES

IN ‘CENDRILLON’ AND ‘PEAU D’ANE’

conveyed through these tales, Charles Perrault shows himself as a true mod-

erne. Perhaps some of the narrative pointers of his adaptation even attest to

an ambition to take up the satirical thread from Pascal and bring into play the theological teachings of his brother, thus working as commonplaces within a quite particular contemporary frame of reference. But, whereas the commonplaces pertaining to the fairytale genre are to a large extent identifiable, those which belong to the contemporary code are evasive. In this sense, Perrault’s description of Homeric mores applies to his own handling of commonplaces: ‘il y en a de particuliéres au temps ou il a écrit, & il y en a qui sont de tous les temps’ (‘there are those which are par-

ticular to the time when he wrote, and there are those which are relevant at all times’).

Jansenist community at Port-Royal underlies the culinary and transforma-

tive signs in Perrault. Without contesting this, much grander, hypothesis, the suggestion here is that the Perraldian moral tenor hinges on the ‘Systéme de Morale’ of Jansenism as it resonated in the Lettres provinciales or in Nico-

las Perrault’s instruction. I do not argue that Peau d’Ane and Cendrillon represent a grafting of

Jansenist dogma onto tales derived from popular lore. But the two contes

are a striking example of the merger of universality and individuality that is

characteristic of the genre. Perrault encodes fundamental elements from the stock repository of fairytale topoi by means of markers which, to his contemporaries, may well have been charged with specific connotations: the

attractive details regarding food and clothing, the more substantial references to the figures of the marraine and the Casuist — and perhaps to more wide-ranging doctrinal structures of vileness, grace, and glory underlying the tales’ allusions to the transformation from stained humiliation to victorious splendour.

6. Epilogue: commonplaces in Perrault's ‘Contes’

Commonplaces are the stuff that fairytales are made of; commonplaces, that is, in the sense of ‘cultural material with both past and present currency’.” Perrault’s contes are a literary work at once steeped in generic conventions and representing that need for an up-to-date morality which is propagated in his Parallèle. It draws on a familiar popular tradition and displays a variety of the commonplaces belonging to this genre. But his is no mere antiquarian

retelling. In his professed interest in the moral instruction which may be

” Pascal, Pensées, ed. P. Sellier (Paris, 1976), pp. 90, 103, and 192.

78 Moss, chapter in this volume, p. 1.

249

” Perrault, Parallèle, Ill, p. 47; edn, p. 295.

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Adrian VI, Pope, 43 Aelst, Pieter Coecke van, 153, 167, 169, 170 Agricola, Rudolph, 77, 130n; De inventione dialectica libri tres, 77-78, 156 Albergati, Nicolo, 191 Alberti, Leon Battista, 217 Alciato, Andrea, Emblemata, 16 Alessandro de’ Medici, Cardinal, 191, 197n Allott, Robert, Englands Parnassus:

or the choysest flowers of our moderne poets, 14

Andreae, Jacob, 59, 62-65, 71, 74 Andreini, Francesco, 179n Andreini, Isabella, 177, 179n; Mirtilla, 183 Animuccia, Giovanni, 204 Ansaldi, Iacopo, 191-192, 195, 207; Discorsi spirituali et civili, 192; Dottrina cristiana, 187, 189, 191, 194, 195-202 Antifassi, Nicholò, 192 Apuleius (Lucius Apuleius Platonicus), 236 Aquinas, Thomas, 82-83, 105; Summa Theologica, 3, 7n Arbeau, Thoinot, 221 Aretino, Pietro, 174 Ariosto, Ludovico, La Cassaria, 180; Orlando Furioso, 174 Aristotle, 19, 24, 27, 28, 103n, 173, 211-212, 217, 242n; Categories, 29n; Nicomachean Ethics, 4, 33, 221; On Interpretation, 29n; Organon, 29n; Poetics, 24; Posterior Analytics, 29n; Rhetoric, 24; Topica, 22n, 28, 29n Armani, Vincenza, 177 Arnauld, Antoine, 242, 243, 244

Augustine of Hippo, 39-49, 104, 234n; City of God, 41; Confessions, 41, 44; On Christian Doctrine, 46; Retractations, 44

Augustus, Gaius Julius Caesar, Roman Emperor, 157, 169, 170 Aurifaber, Johannes, 55-56

Baldung Grien, Hans, 168 Baldwin, W., Treatice of Moral Philosophy, 13n Bardi, Giovanni, 205 Basile, Giambattista, 1] Pentamerone, 236, 240, 246 Bebel, Henrich, 91 Belcari, Feo, 202, 203 Belleforest, Francois de, Les Sentences illustres de M. T. Ciceron, 13n Bembo, Pietro, Prose della volgar lingua, 175 Beolco, Angelo (Ruzante), 177 Bernini, Giovanni Lorenzo, 231 Bèze, Théodore de, 59, 60-62, 64-65, 132n

Bianca Cappello de’ Medici, 222 Binet, Etienne, Essay des merveilles

de Nature et des plus nobles artifices, 28 Boccaccio, Giovanni, 174; Decameron, 236 Bodin, Jean, 32n Boileau-Despréaux, Nicolas, Art

poétique, 232

Bolton, Robert, 215 Borromeo, Carlo, 89 Botsack, Johann, Moralium Gedanensium, 75 Bournonville, Antoine, 220n Brant, Sebastian, Narrenschiff, 91, 99, 102 Bronzino (Agnolo di Cosimo), 167

274

INDEX

Bruegel, Pieter the Elder, 167

Buonarroti, Michelangelo, 174

Byron, Lord, 220

Caesar, Julius, Roman Emperor, 25n, 169 Calvete de Estrella, Juan Christoval,

ΕἸ Felicissimo Viaje del muy

Alto y muy Poderoso Principe Don Phelippe, 153, 154, 158, 159, 160. 165 Calvin, Jean, 60, 125; Institutes, 9 Camillo, Giulio, 122n

Campiglia, Maddelena, Flori, 183-

186 Canisius, Petrus, 197

Cano, Melchior, De locis theologicis,

10, 78, 90 Carneades, 47 Caroso, Fabritio, 210, 216, 219, 221222, 226; Nobilta di dame, 222223

Castiglione, Baldassare, 174, 220

Catherine de’ Medici, 120, 124-125, 126 Cavendish, William, 216n Cawdrey, Robert, A Treasurie or

Store-house of Similes both pleasaunt, delightfull, and prof-

itable, 11-12, 13 Cellini, Benvenuto, 174 Cesi, Cornelia Orsina, 222. 223

Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor,

43, 151, 156, 157, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 169 Charles IX, King of France, 142 Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, 157 Châtaillon, Sebastian, 98-99 Christian II, King of Denmark, 95 Cicero, Marcus Tullius, 13, 19, 21, 23, 24, 25, 27, 28, 31, 34, 41, 42, 77, 173; De amicitia, 26n: De oratore, 21n, 32, 127n, 154-

155; De provinciis consularibus

oratio, 22n; De senectute, 26n; In Catilinam, 21n, 26, 32, 33; In

275

INDEX Verrem, 21n, 22n, 26, 32, 33; Paradoxa, 26n; Partitiones oratoriae, 21; Philippicae orationes, 22n; Pro Archia, 22n, 26, 32, 33; Pro lege Manilia, 26n; Pro Marcello, 26n; Topica, 21 Coecke, Pieter: see Aelst, Pieter Coecke van

Colbert, Jean-Baptiste, 231, 241n

Colet, John, 47 Condé, Prince de, 13, 132, 134 Constantine (Caesar Flavius Valerius

Aurelius Constantinus Augus-

tus), Roman Emperor, 168, 223 Corrozet, Gilles, Parnasse des poetes françois modernes, 14 Corsi, Jacopo, 205 Cranach, Lucas the Elder, 168 Curtius (Quintus Curtius Rufus), 25n

Cyprian, Saint, 105

Da Feltre, Vittorino, 212 Da Piacenza, Domenico, 210, 216220, 221 Da Vinci, Leonardo, 209 De la Rue, Pierre, 54n Della Casa, Giovanni, 220 Demosthenes, 27 Des Périers, Bonaventure, 237 Desrues, François, Les Marguerites

françoises; ou fleurs du bien

dire, 15n Didache, 80 Dieterich, Cunrad, Kirchweyh- oder

Duchesne, Joseph, Le Grand Miroir

du monde, 130, 131, 135, 137147, 149 Dürer, Albrecht, 168 Dugdale, William, 214n

Eber, Paul, 70n Eck, Johann, 44, 96; Enchiridion locorum communium adversus Lutheranos, 8, 94, 95 Elyot, Sir Thomas, The Boke Named the Governour, 212-213, 215 Empiricus, Sextus, 17, 117n Emser, Hieronymus, 95, 102 Erasmus, Desiderius, 2, 5, 11, 49, 130n, 154, 156, 157n; Antibarbarians, 42, 45-48, 49; Colloquia, 45; De civilitate morum puerilium, 166; De duplici copia verborum ac rerum, 2-3; Querela pacis, 163 Estienne, Henri, 113-114, 115-127;

Apologie pour Hérodote, 116,

118, 122n; Deux Dialogues du nouveau langage françois italianizé, 123-125, 127n; Les Premices, 113; Thesaurus linguae graecae, 118; Traicté de

la conformité du langage fran-

çois avec le grec, 116-117, 1191232125 Estienne, Robert, 116 Eugenius IV, Pope, 190

Gesang-Predigt, 73-74

Flacius Illyricus, Matthias, Magde-

tions et deportements de Catherine de Médicis, Royne-mère,

(Les) Fleurs du bien dire: recueillies

Discours merveilleux de la vie, ac-

124-125 Dolet, Etienne, 122n Du Bartas, Guillaume de Saluste, La

Sepmaine, ou la creation du

monde, 129, 130-131, 132, 135137, 139, 141n, 142, 147, 148149 Du Bellay, Joachim, Deffence et IIlustration de la langue françoyse, 117, 125n

burg Centuries, 9-10

és cabinets des plus rares es-

prits de ce temps, 15n Francis of Assisi, Saint, 105, 108 Francis I, King of France, 122n, 160 Franck, Sebastian, 99, 112; Sprichwoerter, 91-92

Frick, Christopher, Music-Biichlein, 68-72

Gaguin, Robert, 47

Genovese, Jacopo, 192, 195

Gentillet, Innocent, 124n Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, 220 Gonzaga, Curzio, 184

Grapheus, Cornelius, De seer wonderlijcke schoone Triumpheli-

Jcke Incompst van (...) Prince Philips (...) inde stads van

Antwerpen, 151, 153, 154, 158, 165, 170

Gregory the Great, Pope, 43

Gregory XIII, Pope, 196 Gregory XIV, Pope, 88-89

Guarini, Giovanni Battista,179 Guasco, Lavinia, 213 Guise, Henri de, 134 Ham, John, 83 Heine, Heinrich, 216 Helgesen, Poul, 93-95

Henry II, King of France, 121

Henry III, King of France, 123, 132, 133-134, 136, 142, 144, 145, 146 Henry IV, King of France (Henri de Navarre), 33, 89, 130, 131, 132133, 134, 135, 141, 142, 144145, 146 Hertwig, Oscar, 84 Homer, 233 Hoogstraeten, Jacob of, Cum divo Augustino colloquia, 42, 43-45, 46, 47, 48, 49 Horace (Quintus Horatius Flaccus), 22n, 173; Epistulae, 21n; Odes, 25n Hotman, Francois, 132n Hus, Jan, 101, 107, 110 Innocent XI, Pope, 83 Isaac, Heinrich, 54n Isabella d’Este, 213 Jerome, Saint, 43, 45, 46, 47;

Against the Pelagians, 43

Johanna of Brabant, 152

John Frederick, Prince of Saxony, 97, 160

Jonson, Ben, 14, 215

276

INDEX

Kessler, Johannes, Sabbata, 109-111 Kettenbach, Heinrich von, 101-103, 109 Kierkegaard, Soren, 220-221

Lampedusa, Giuseppe Tomasi di, // Gattopardo, 227

Lang, Jacob, 213

Le Brun, Charles, 231 Ledesma, Giacomo, 191, 196, 197,

198 Leo X, Pope, 96 Letters of Obscure Men, 43 Ling, Nicolas, Politeuphia or Wits Commonwealth, 14n

Livy (Titus Livius), 25n Lombard, Peter, 82

Lorenzo the Magnificent, 203

Louis XIII, King of France, 33, 215 Louis XIV, King of France, 136,

215, 231, 232

Loyola, Saint Ignatius of, 188 Lupi, Isabella Pallavicino, 183

Luther, Martin, 7, 39, 40, 43, 44-45, 49, 51-58, 67, 69, 71, 92, 93, 95, 96, 97-98, 100, 101, 102, 103, 106, 107, 110, 111, 114,

160n; Encomion musices, 5455; Tischreden, 53, 54, 55; Walter Choir Book, 52

Machiavelli, Niccold, 87, 174; Discorsi, 159 Marbecke, John, Booke of Notes and

Commonplaces, 9

Margarita da Citta di Castello, 207 (Les) Marguerites des lieux communs et excellentes sentences, 15n Marlowe, Christopher, 14 Marot, Clément, 14 Martinelli, Tristano, 181n Mary of Burgundy, 157 Masson, Robert (Le Macon), 9 Maximilian of Austria, Holy Roman Emperor, 157 Melanchthon, Philip, 3, 9, 11, 62n, 96, 108, 156; De rhetorica, 7;

277

INDEX Loci communes rerum theologicarum, 6-8, 12, 55, 78, 94 Ménestrier, C.-F., 215n Menou, René de, 215n Mercier, D., Cardinal, 84 Mesmes, Henri de, 117, 118 Meurier, Gabriel, Thresor de sentences dorées, proverbes et dicts communs, 13-14 Mikkelsen, Hans, 93 Milton, John, Paradise Lost, 221 Montaigne, Michel de, 6n, 16-17

Montbéliard colloquy, 59-66

Montmorency, Duke of, 134 Morata, Olympia, 173n Muret, Marc-Antoine, 33 Murner, Thomas, 99-100 Myconius (Mecum), Friedrich, Historia reformationis, 106-108, 109, 110 Navarre, Henri de: see Henry IV,

King of France

Navarro, Francisco, 209, 210 Nazarei, Judas: see Watt, Joachim von Negri, Cesare, 222

Neri, Filippo, 89, 204 Nogarola, Isotta, 173n

Overbury, Sir Thomas, 214n Ovid (Publius Ovidius Naso), 22n, 32, 222; Remedia amoris, 21n, 31 Pascal, Blaise, 242, 244, 248, 249

Pascal, Jacqueline, 173n

Peri, Jacopo, 205 Perpinian, John, 20, 24, 32; Orationes duoveginti, 33 Perrault, Charles, 229, 230, 231, 232, 237, 242, 249; Cendrillon, 229, 235, 237, 238, 239, 240-241, 242-243, 244, 246-247, 248: Mémoires, 231n, 241n, 243, 244; Parallèle des anciens et des modernes, 232-235, 236, 237, 238, 242n, 243, 247, 248,

249n; Peau d'Ane, 229, 235, 236, 237-238, 239, 240, 241, 242, 244-246, 248: Le Siécle de Louis le Grand, 232-233 Perrault, Claude, 231 Perrault, Nicolas, 242, 243, 244, 248 Perrault, Pierre, 231, 236n, 241n, 244n Petrarch (Francesco Petrarca), 118, 174, 183; Canzoniere, 177; Secretum, 45 Philip IL, King of Spain, 151, 152, 156, 157, 158, 159, 160n, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165-166, 167, 170

Philip IV, King of Spain, 210 Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, 157

Philip the Handsome, King of Cas-

tile, 157 Piedmont, Prince of, 158 Piisimi, Vittoria, 177 Pius V, Pope, 196 Plato, 27, 173, 211, 220; Republic, 110, 211 Plautus, Titus Maccius, 180

Pliny the Elder (Gaius Plinius Secun-

dus), Natural Plutarch, Moralia, Pluvinel, Antoine Polo, Zuan, 177 Pontormo (Jacopo

History, 143 143n de, 215

Carucci), 167

Quillian, Michel, 130

Quintilian (Marcus Fabius Quintilianus), 19, 21n, 24; Institutio oratoria, 21, 156, 159

Rabelais, François, 167 Ramus, Petrus, Dialectique, 29, 156 Ratio studiorum (of Jesuits), 20, 21, 22, 24, 25, 26, 30, 213-214 Razzi, Serafino, 202, 204; Santuario di laudi, 206-207 Reuchlin, Johannes, 42, 108 Richelieu, Armand Jean du Plessis de, Cardinal, 215 Rinuccini, Ottavio, 205

Ronsard, Pierre de, 149 Rupsch, Konrad, 51n Saint-Hubert, Monsieur de, 215n Sallust (Gaius Sallustius Crispus), 25n Savonarola, Girolamo, 203-204

Scudéry, Madeleine de, 173n

Seisenegger, Jakob, 167 Seneca, Lucius Annaeus, Hippolytus, 223 Senfl, Ludwig, 54n Septimius Severus, Lucius, Roman Emperor, 168 Serclier, Jude, 130 Serlio, Sebastiano, 169, 170 Shakespeare, William, 14; Coriolanus, 151n Shirley, James, 214, 221, 216n Sidney, Sir Philip, 14 Sixtus V, Pope, 87-88, 89 Soarez, Cypriano, De arte rhetorica libri tres, 19, 20-34 Spalatin, Georg, 52 Spangenberg, Cyriacus, Cithara Lutheri, 56-59, 70 Spenser, Edmund, 14 Speroni, Sperone, Dialogo delle lingue, 117

Stampa, Gaspara, 174

Stefonio, Bernardino, 210, 223, 226; Crispus, 223-226 Strabo, Geographia, 240n Straparola, Giovanni, Piacevoli Notti, 236 Sturm, Johannes, 156 Talon, Omer, Rhetorica, 20, 29n Tasso, Torquato, 179, 183; Jerusalem Delivered, 174, 178 Tassoni, Alessandro, La Secchia rapita, 236n Terence (Publius Terentius A fer), 180

Tertullian (Quintus Septimius

Florens Tertullianus), 234n Tetzel, John, 106

Thou, Jacques-Auguste de, 134

278 Titian (Tiziano Vecelli),

160

Titus (Titus Flavius Vespasianus), Roman Emperor, 168 Tolstoy, Leo, 227 Tournon, Frangois de, Cardinal, 121 Traversari, Ambrogio, 190 Urfé, Honoré d’, Astrée, 15 Van Cleve, Joos, 168 Van Leeuwenhoek, Antony, 83-84 Vanni, Lorenzo, 207 Van Rossum, Maarten, 160 Vasa, Gustav, King of Sweden, 93, 94 Vermigli, Peter Martyr, Loci communes, 9 Valerius Maximus, 4 Viret, Pierre, Disputations Chrestiennes, touchant l estat des trepassez, faites par dialogues, 125-126

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Virgil (Publius Vergilius Maro), 22n, 25n, 31, 183; Aeneid, 25n, 31, 151; Eclogues, 25n Vives, Juan Luis, 156

Walter, Johann, 51n, 52n, 54n, 70n Waterhous, Edward, 214n Watt, Joachim von, 103-105, 109 Wright, Thomas, 220 Wycherley, W., The Plain Dealer, 227n Xavier, Saint Francis, 213 Zwinger, Theodor, Theatrum vitae humanae, 4n, Similitudinum methodus, 11, 29n

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